Lothiriel and Eomer
by Andrew's Slinky
Summary: Queen Arianna of the Barazinbar loves her people and Middle Earth, so she takes her army to Rohan to offer aid in the upcoming war, but it turns out that their biggest adventure is when one of her own falls for the Third Marshall of the Riddermark.
1. The Barazinbar and First Impressions

Disclaimer: I only own the plot, and the Lady Riders, along with their Queen, but not Lothiriel, she is originally a Tolkien c

Disclaimer: I only own the plot, and the Lady Riders, along with their Queen, but not Lothiriel, she is originally a Tolkien character, I just tweaked her a bit.

Summary: Lady Arianna of the Barazinbar is the Queen of the Lady Riders and an unlikely ally to the forces of good in the great war of the ring. She and her female army help with the Battle of Helm's Deep and the Battle at Mordor, but the greatest adventure is when one of her own falls for the Third Marshall of the Riddermark.

"Milady, the court calls for you." Lothiriel, best friend and second in command to Queen Arianna murmured softly as she entered her friend's quarters.

"Of course, and I will arrive shortly." Arianna stood by the window of her modest castle that she called home. She had never truly been comfortable with the title of Queen, and hardly ever acted as if she was such, unless the occasion truly called for it. More often than not she acted more as a soldier than a diplomat.

"Milady?" Lothiriel asked hesitantly as she turned to leave.

"Yes Lothiriel?" Arianna asked, sounding incredibly tired as she turned to view her friend, dark auburn hair inherited from her mother cascading in curls over her now dull green eyes.

"Will we truly be able to travel to Rohan?" her friend asked, her blue eyes sparkling with barely contained excitement as her raven hair fell straight over her shoulders.

"Yes Lothiriel, we shall travel to Rohan." Arianna nodded, turning to look back over her lands with a careful and watchful gaze.

Lothiriel smiled happily, having always wanted to travel to such far away lands.

"Very well, Milady." She spoke finally as she left, her white skirts swishing around her as she hurried down the hall to the courtroom.

Arianna sighed as she heard the door shut behind her most trustworthy Lady Rider. She had never been born to be a Queen, it had just happened, in the most horrible sequence of events that she could imagine, and very slowly it was starting to eat her up inside. But she had to go to court, she had to tell her people what she had planned for them, and she had to prepare the army to leave. For they would need to provide aid to the crumbling kingdoms of men before the end.

--

"Hail the Queen!" Duerma, her most faithful male servant called throughout the hall, and the entirety of people inside were instantly silent and fell either into bows or curtseys before their Queen who bowed her head regally to each in turn as she made her way to the head of the room, standing before the throne that her father had occupied for so long and she still had no heart to sit in, turning towards her faithful subjects.

"My most faithful people, I come before you in an hour of great turmoil. Our people have become embroiled in a war that I know most of you feel is not our own. But we are a part of Middle Earth, a part of this world. And this fight that has enraptured mankind shall soon enrapture us as well, and I feel that for the good of our people, and of our way of life, it would be best for us to greet this inevitability with open and prepared arms, than to wait for it to reach our borders when we are unprepared. So on this day, I officially declare war on the shadow in the East and all of those who would agree with him."

The hall stayed silent for a moment or two before erupting in murmurs. Whether they were angry or not, Arianna did not know, nor did she care, she knew what was best for her people.

"All hail the Queen!" Lothiriel's voice wafted loudly above the others as she whooped in appreciation for her friend and clapped to show her support. It took a little while longer than Arianna found completely comforting, but soon the rest of the hall was cheering and clapping along with Lothiriel.

Arianna favored her friend with a grateful smile and was returned with an audacious wink. 'Thank you' she mouthed to her friend who nodded in recognition before weaving about the room, doing what she did best, rallying the people around a cause that they may not particularly believe in.

--

"Prepare the horses, we leave in the morning." Arianna spoke to her master of the stables who nodded before heading out to tell his staff to prepare the warhorses for battle.

"Milady, if I may speak freely." Lothiriel entered the courtyard where her Queen stood, alone for the first time all day.

"Of course Lothiriel, you know we have no secrets." Arianna smiled over her shoulder.

Lothiriel nodded her head, glad for the friendly indulgence.

"The travel to Rohan, is it truly about being prepared for the war?"

Arianna surveyed her friend for a moment or two before her smile returned.

"Yes Lothiriel, it is, why do you ask?"

Lothiriel shrugged.

"Just curious."

"Ah, well, your curiosity may get you killed someday." Arianna teased in turn. Lothiriel laughed, her dark hair being lifted by the wind and it was in that moment that Arianna saw the Elven heritage that flowed through her veins, even if it was many generations past.

"Milady, this war, shall we survive it?" Lothiriel's voice trembled and Arianna felt sorry for what her best friend was feeling, she had not meant to frighten her.

"I believe that we shall Lothiriel. As long as we stay strong, yes?" she placed a gentle hand on her friend's shoulder and smiled.

"We must stay strong for our people, never let them see you worry."

Lothiriel laughed and hugged her Queen, who returned the gesture. Then the pair of friends headed off to prepare for war.

--

They had been riding for almost two weeks now, and had finally entered the lands of the Riddermark. Arianna knew her army was tired, she knew that they wanted nothing more than to camp and rest, but they were so close that she could taste it and she had qualms about stopping so close to their destination.

"Milady, the army grows restless." Lothiriel stepped into league with her Queen who smiled over at her softly.

"I know Lothiriel, another hour and we shall rest, we are very close now."

Lothiriel nodded and dropped back behind her Queen, where she had ridden the entire trip.

"Riders!" came a call from the back, and Lothiriel spun on the dapple-grey that she rode. Arianna turned her horse completely, riding back towards where the strange new riders were coming from. Lothiriel sighed and rolled her eyes to the back of her head before following her hotheaded Queen. She always had to be the peacekeeper.

"Hail, who rides through the Riddermark?" came a call from the mass of riders headed towards them. Lothiriel sucked in a breath, they were the Rohirim, she could tell just from the way that they were dressed.

"Queen Arianna of the Barazinbar and her Lady Riders!" Arianna called back, and Lothiriel could already hear the annoyance in her voice.

The Rohirim surrounded them with expert precision and their leader addressed Arianna.

"I have never heard of such a woman or of such a place." He told her, his voice dripping with disbelief and distrust.

"Well whether or not you have heard of myself or my lands is not my concern horse master," Arianna's voice dripped with contempt, "I am who I say I am and if you do not believe me that fault lies with you."

The man rode his horse forward, and the Rohirim tightened their circle. Lothiriel decided to put off a war, when it was obvious they were all on the same side.

"What my Lady means is that we regret not being able to inform you of our arrival, but we felt it was best to be silent in such matters, certainly you would agree in this time of spies?" she pleaded, using her most diplomatic of demeanors and catching the eye of the man before her. He bowed his head before removing his helmet and his men all relaxed a bit. He and Lothiriel caught gazes and he gave her the softest of smiles.

"Of course, Milady, but you must realize the dilemma my men and I are in, with the White Wizard's spies all around us, we must be cautious, even enough to question a lady." His voice was cultured and smooth and something about him sent a nagging thought through Lothiriel's brain that she had met him before, even though she knew it to be a false memory.

"Then we forgive you for your understandable suspicion, but we are here to help."

"Help?" his confusion was obvious and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"With the oncoming war."

There was a murmur and a small laugh throughout the men surrounding them and Lothiriel bristled with indignation, as did her fellow Lady Riders, as even the leader of the Rohirim quirked a small smirk, though too respectful to laugh outright.

"Listen, just because your women have pleased themselves to stay behind and become slaves to your whims does not mean that every woman in Middle Earth has resigned herself to the same fate. We are here to offer any aide that we can in this struggle that will soon envelope us all. Which is more than I can say for any army of men that we have come across in our lifetimes, so you would do well, my Lord, to have a bit more respect." She barely kept her voice level but managed it and felt a sense of satisfaction when his smirk dissipated.

"Forgive me, Milady." He bowed his head to her and she felt a small pang of guilt for yelling at him. But not enough guilt to bite her tongue.

"Perhaps someday you shall earn my forgiveness."

He gave her a disbelieving and indignant look.

"Who are you?" he asked her curiously and she was momentarily taken aback at the question.

"My Lord?" she asked and he smiled at her, showing two rows of very white teeth.

"Your name Milady, if it is not too much to ask."

"Lothiriel." She answered him hesitantly. He just continued to smile at her.

"I am Eomer, Lady Lothiriel." He held his hand out in a gesture of peace, "Please allow my men and I to accompany you to the city."

Arianna and Lothiriel exchanged looks and silent communication before Arianna gave a non-committal jerk of the head, almost as if to say, 'if you must.'

"Thank you."

He could tell it tasted bitter on her tongue to say such a thing and was heavily amused by it, a fact that he did not bother to conceal as they all fell into line together.

"You do not wish for us to accompany you?" he asked her, falling back into step with her.

"It is not up to me, it is up to my Queen." She answered diplomatically and he chuckled quietly.

"May I ask what is so funny?"

"You Milady." He smiled at her and she got the coldest of feelings that this man was dangerous. Not in the physical sense, though looking him up and down she could tell that he was not a man to be reckoned with in war, but he was much more dangerous in the emotional sense. His manner of speech and movement, along with the effortless way that he teased her, falling into a sense of familiarity even though they had just met. He could make her feel things that she had only imagined and then go off, never to be seen again. Oh he was a dangerous man indeed.

"I amuse you, my Lord Eomer?" she questioned as she bent forward to soothe her steed, which was becoming a bit restless.

"If you did not wish us to accompany you, then why did you accept my offer?" he questioned her, sidestepping the question she had directed at him.

"We are strangers in your land, my Lord, and arriving unannounced at the King's Hall could get us into a mess of trouble that we do not need to bother with at the moment, however, if you and the Rohirim were to accompany us, then we should receive a much warmer welcome." She explained to him and he smiled at her again, glad that she would do something she did not particularly like for the good of her people, it spoke well of her character.

"I am afraid that you answered my question with another question."

"Oh, and what question would that be?" he inquired, teasing her again, knowing exactly of what she was talking about.

She sent him a reproachful look but he refused to bend to her will, though it was tempting.

"Do I amuse you?" she asked again, and he looked down at his hands for a moment before looking back at her.

"I would not call it amusement Milady, I would call it more of a shocked reaction."

"Shocked?" she asked him, confused.

"To your brazen manner, Lady Lothiriel, women in my country are not nearly as…" he searched for the right word, "bold."

She surveyed him for a moment or two before smiling at him, and he felt a bit of color rise to his cheeks at the sight of her looking at him the way that she was.

"Perhaps a bold woman is exactly what you need." She suggested before urging her steed forward and catching up to Arianna, who had been listening intently the entire time, after all it had been only Eomer and Lothiriel talking.

Eomer watched her go, a truly shocked expression on his face. A bolder woman, huh? He liked that suggestion.

--

Okay, so I absolutely adore Eomer, I don't know why, but there's something about him, he's always been my favorite, and I like the idea of him with someone, and I wanted to try my hand at pairing him with Lothiriel, and I know that I tweaked her, well, I pretty much changed her entire story, but I always imagined her as a strong willed warrior, not some delicate princess, so I made her into what I saw in my head.

Please read and review

Andrew's Slinky


	2. Meeting a King

--

--

They reached the doors of Edoras, and the two armies headed through the gates together, Eomer leading the way.

He lead them to the stables and once the horses were taken care of, the men scattered back to their lives until the horn was sounded and they would have to leave again. Arianna instructed her army, minus Lothiriel, to stay behind with the horses as she went to speak with King Théoden with Eomer's help.

"Do you truly think that he will accept us?" Lothiriel put the question to her Queen as she followed a respectful two-steps behind her.

"I pray so." Arianna answered and for the first time in their lives Lothiriel heard the fear in her voice.

Eomer entered the Great Hall first, Arianna just behind him and Lothiriel just behind her, both women trembled on the inside, but refused to show it to anyone of the men that now surrounded them in the Hall.

"My Lord." Eomer kneeled before his King and both Arianna and Lothiriel followed suit, though Arianna stood much sooner than she should have, but Lothiriel considered it a victory that she had kneeled at all to the man before them. He was elderly and feeble, hardly the picture of what a King of Rohan should be.

"Eomer." Croaked the King, extending a hand of greeting. Arianna and Lothiriel exchanged glances, unsure of how to respond to the sight before them.

"You bring guests, my Lord Eomer?" questioned a greasy man from the side shadows of the King's throne and upon seeing him Lothiriel felt a shiver run down her spine.

"This is Queen Arianna of the Barazinbar, and her most faithful Lady Lothiriel." Eomer introduced them and Arianna stepped forward, while Lothiriel stayed in her respectful place of back and off to the side.

"My Lord Théoden, King of Rohan, I come in peace and with an offering of aid." She greeted the man before her with all the regality of a Queen, even if she was not dressed as such; she was dressed as a warrior, as were they all.

"Aid?" chuckled the greasy man and Lothiriel bristled at the sound. Arianna however stayed perfectly still, shooting a revolted glare in the man's direction.

"Yes aid. For this war has begun to howl at all of our doorsteps, and I feel it prudent to have a plan ready." She directed it all at King Théoden but her still disgusted voice did nothing to hide her contempt for the man who had dared to laugh.

"War?" questioned the King and Arianna was taken aback, as was Lothiriel, did the king truly know nothing of the war?

"There is no war here." The greasy man broke in, coming to his King's side. "Why do you trouble an already so troubled mind with such lies?"

Arianna bristled with anger but bit her tongue, careful of her choice of words, but Lothiriel could hold no such restraint.

"And who are you to call my Queen a liar?" she asked the man, murder in her normally peaceful eyes. She could feel Eomer's gaze on her, but she did not look over at him, she kept her murderous glare on the man before her.

"I am Grima Wormtongue, personal aid and advisor to the King." He replied, standing to his full height and yet still seeming stooped over as if the evil that lived in his heart weighed him down.

"Not of high enough station to question a Queen." Lothiriel shot back, and this time it was Arianna who looked at her.

"Lothiriel, quiet victories are best." She told her and Lothiriel instantly backed down, but her anger was still there.

"Yes milady." She nodded, her demeanor shrinking, but by no means loosing any of its power.

"I would not lie, I know of this war to be true." Arianna answered the original statement and Wormtongue viewed her with contempt.

"Then perhaps your news is false without your knowledge." He remarked, his voice holding a bitterly polite tone to it.

"Uncle, will you not at least give them shelter until they can head out again?" Eomer broke in; addressing the feeble King and Lothiriel felt her heart contract. She knew she had recognized his name. Eomer was the nephew of King Théoden, cousin to Crown Prince Theodred, and the third in line to the throne if Theodred did not conceive an heir, which became more and more unlikely as time passed. He was over thirty now and still without wife or child. Her and her mouth! She had no right to joke or talk the way she had with a man so above her in station.

King Théoden's eyes seemed to clear just a bit at the sound of his nephew's voice and he nodded his head.

"They must have shelter until they leave." He rasped and even though there was no doubt that Wormtongue objected he didn't seem to have the guts to contradict his King directly, so he nodded.

"Of course, Lady Eowyn and her court shall show you to your quarters."

--

Lothiriel had made an instant connection to Lady Eowyn and the pair of them were already friends. They had taken off from their respective duties, Eowyn because she was tired of it and Lothiriel because she had been dismissed, and they were together traveling around the courtyard, Lothiriel's eyes wide as she took in the absolutely breathtaking scenery around her.

"Do you object to your quarters?" Eowyn questioned her and Lothiriel turned her head to look at the blonde Princess.

"No, they are lovely. Your country is lovely."

"Yours is not?" asked Eowyn and Lothiriel laughed.

"Oh it is beautiful but the weather should drive us out in the end."

"Oh?"

"The Barazinbar is harsh and unforgiving, as most beautiful things are."

"I hear that you were as such to my brother." Eowyn answered and Lothiriel could feel the color slash her cheeks as she attempted to respond.

"I had not known your brother's status before I opened my mouth. I suppose that I should apologize, it is not my place to speak to someone of his station in such a way."

"Nonsense, from what I hear from the men you held your own against my brother, sometimes he needs a very severe kick in the pants."

Lothiriel laughed along with her new friend and was glad that she had not been scolded for her behavior because so often it was Arianna who needed the scolding that she had just become accustomed to it.

"Besides he never had the smooth diplomacy of my cousin Theodred when it came to beautiful women such as yourself." Eowyn remarked somewhat off-handedly. She knew that her brother would kill her for uttering such a statement if he ever found out, but she felt the need to explain it to Lothiriel, after all, Eomer hardly ever took the time to talk to a woman that had yet to be spoken for and she had taken a liking to Lothiriel, and had absolutely no objections to the dark-haired beauty becoming the sister she had always dreamed of.

Lothiriel did not respond mostly because she was unsure as of to how she should. She was saved of having to think of a way when Eowyn, noticing her discomfort, tactfully changed the subject.

"How long have you been a warrior?" she asked, curious about the life that Lothiriel led that she wanted so desperately for herself.

"All my life, since I was old enough to handle a sword on my own."

Eowyn sighed wistfully.

"To have such a life." She murmured, mostly to herself, but Lothiriel heard her.

"It is not all as it sounds. Yes, the excitement of battle is infectious, and being able to defend my country, my people, is something that I would never trade, but it is a lonely life. For if I were to ever get married I would have to give it up. I would have to be held inside until the end of my days and I suppose that I am not built for such things." She shrugged, unsure if she even wanted to think of it.

"But your honor and valor are there, and the ability to protect your people, I would trade my life for yours."

"No milady! You must never wish such a thing! For you have a family that loves you, and a people that adore you. You must never wish for a life of valor that will only leave you broken and alone. You simply need to find the valor in the life that you have been given."

Eowyn stopped in her tracks and looked at the woman before her.

"Is that what you did?" she asked, and Lothiriel smiled wistfully.

"It is what I was forced to do. My mother died in battle, as did my father. I was forced to grow up very fast."

"I am sorry." Eowyn knew her pain, having lost her own parents at a young age as well.

"It is the past, milady, nothing to regret now."

--


	3. Healing

--

--

Cries awoke Lothiriel from her place of sleep. As she stood, reaching for the sword that stayed at its rightful place by her bedside, Arianna burst through the door, a lantern in her hand.

"Eomer has brought back wounded, we will need your help." There was a wild light to her eyes and Lothiriel understood in that instance exactly how much Arianna lived for this, the excitement of war.

"Hurry," and then she was gone, taking her lamplight with her. Lothiriel put her sword back carefully before digging through her belongings to find her medicine bag. She wasn't the Healer that her mother had been, but she could try.

Upon entering the hall, her breath was stolen. The stench of blood and death invaded her senses and she stopped cold for a moment until the cries of pain permeated her heart and without thinking she leapt into action, reaching the first victim to her left. He was a man years younger than herself and it wrenched her heart to see him lying there so ragged and broken. His legs were crushed, presumably by his horse, and a cold sweat had taken over his body. Lothiriel did everything she could to comfort him, giving him the best herbs for the pain but there was not much else she could do except to inform one of Eomer's men that a surgeon would be needed and then she moved on to her next patient.

She was softly closing the eyes of the man who had just passed in her arms when there was a loud cry from down the vast hall. A man about her age, in fever induced delusion, had grabbed a hold of Arianna and was yelling in his native tongue, shaking the startled queen. Lothiriel left the body before her, rushing to the aid of her friend. She managed to pull Arianna away just in time to receive one of the man's wayward fists to the temple before his fellow soldiers could contain him. She felt herself spin, before hitting the cold stone floor beneath her, hitting her head a second time.

She groaned as stars danced before her eyes. Raising a shaky hand to her head to feel the damage, she slowly sat up, looking over at the man who was now sedated.

"Lothiriel?" Arianna hit her knees beside her, cloth ready, carefully wiping away the blood.

"I'm fine." Lothiriel waved the concern away with an uninvested hand as she got up to come over and join the sick man who had unwittingly attacked her. She looked over at the man holding him only to lock with a very familiar gaze. The lack of sleep and overabundance of stress was evident on Eomer's face and yet he still had the energy to be concerned for her.

"Milady, are you all right?" he asked her, his eyes following the trail of blood as it stained her skin.

"I'll live, but this man won't if we don't set his arm and stitch up that gash." She replied, side-stepping the question. She dug through her bag and got out her supplies and then cleaned the blood around the wound.

"Will you hold him?" she questioned as she prepared her needle. Eomer nodded and draped himself over the other man's chest.

"He won't move." Eomer told her with such conviction that it startled her for a moment before she shook it off and set her needle to the side.

"This will hurt, I'm sorry." She whispered gently to the man as she gripped just above his elbow and at his wrist and then twisted the arm as quickly as possible. The man cried out in pain, but true to his word Eomer didn't let him move.

"Forgive me," Lothiriel murmured as she slid her needle through fevered flesh. The man cried out and she tried to be as quick and efficient as possible but it was hard. She slid her needle in the final time, wiped away the remaining blood and quietly put her tools away. Eomer watched her the entire time, but she avoided his gaze.

"There," she wiped the man's brow, "he should be all right, but we'll need to watch for infection and make sure that his fever doesn't go too high."

Eomer continued to watch her and finally she returned his gaze. What she found was startling. He was watching her in a mixture of concern and pride.

"You are a studied Healer, milady."

"My mother was the Healer my lord, but I do try my best." She shrugged in modesty, she had never really been too impressed with her abilities; she just did what she had to do.

"You should let me clean that for you." He gestured to the cut on her temple that was still oozing some blood. She sighed before looking around the room and upon seeing all the dead and dying men, made her decision.

"Tis just a scrape, we need the supplies for the men." Without waiting for a response she stood and moved on to the next patient.

--

It had been several hours and Lothiriel was finally finished with her last patient. She sighed and looked down at her hands. They were covered in dirt and blood, both fresh and dry. She tried to concentrate on something, anything else but the life that was poured on her hands, but she couldn't. She felt herself start to shake and did her best to control it. She started to clean the blood off her hands only to notice that it had been splattered across her person and up her arms. The rag she held started to shake along with the rest of her and fell to the ground.

"Milady?" Eomer knelt at her feet and gently picked up the rag she had dropped. Lothiriel blinked rapidly before looking down at him and then up as he rose to his feet.

"My Lord?" she questioned, unsure of what he had asked her but grateful for the distraction.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes, I believe so," she nodded, looking back down at her still dirty hands.

"Here." He used the rag and bowl of water she had gotten out and started to wipe her hands. Something in her mind told her to tell him to stop, but she couldn't open her mouth. Because a much larger part of her enjoyed being taken care of.

Eomer led her over to a bench and let her sit. He kneeled before her, cleaning off the blood. She watched his hands as they traveled over her skin. They were large, worn and calloused. Strong, but traveling over her they were gentle and soft, as if he were worried she might break, and in that moment she truly appreciated his control, because his touch was so gentle and she knew that if he wanted to he could really hurt her.

Oh he was a dangerous man indeed.

When her hands and arms were finally clean he started to wipe away the dried blood on her temple, unintentionally reopening her wound. She winced and he apologized softly, his lips close to her ear as he investigated the cut. She tried not to shiver but wasn't very successful as his breath tickled her neck. Either he didn't notice or he didn't care because he didn't say a word until she was clean and bandaged.

"That should hold." He murmured gently, smoothing her hair away from her face.

"Forgive my weakness, my Lord." She whispered.

"Weakness?" he asked, leaning back on his heels to look up at her.

"I am a warrior, I should not shake at the sight of blood," she explained. Eomer smiled softly and shook his head.

"Do not ask forgiveness for a human quality, milady, some of the most experienced men get shaken in battle." He tried to soothe her.

"You know, when I was a little girl my mother taught me the art of healing. I was learning stitches and I kept shaking," here she paused, unsure if she should continue. He remained silent but nodded as if to encourage her to finish her story.

"She told me to imagine I was sewing a shirt back together," she chuckled, "but it never worked. Shirts don't bleed."

He surveyed her with an almost guarded expression as if reserving his judgment. Then he smiled gently and helped her stand just as Arianna appeared over his shoulder.

"Lothiriel, are you all right?" she asked sweetly, shooting a worried look between her friend and Eomer. Lothiriel sighed; she knew Arianna viewed Eomer as a dangerous man, just as she did.

"Yes milady," Lothiriel nodded, "Lord Eomer has been very helpful."

Arianna didn't seem to like that, but in an almost superhuman sense of restraint (at least for her) she bit her tongue.

"Come Lothiriel, there are papers we must draft." Arianna held a hand out for her friend who looked from her Queen to the man next to her before taking the outstretched hand of her superior and following her out of the room, sending a single look over her shoulder to Eomer, who watched her go with a mixture of emotions in his eyes that Lothiriel couldn't quite read.

--


	4. Swordplay

--

--

Eomer entered the biggest room off to the left of the Great Hall to the sound of metal clanging. The Lady Riders had infiltrated the room and were practicing their swordplay. The army was circled around the two fighting in the middle, and as he got closer, he realized that the two in the middle were Lothiriel and Arianna.

The swords that they carried were shorter than those of Rohan, and decorated by one serpent devouring a phoenix. Their moves were short and precise, each attack had a counterattack, and each defense had an offense. Until Lothiriel missed a step and Arianna exploited her stumble.

"Oof!" Lothiriel hit the ground, her sword clattering next to her. She looked up at her Queen who had her sword held at her throat.

"Always watch your step." Arianna told her sternly and Lothiriel nodded as she stood, picking up her sword.

"Again."

Arianna attacked first, knocking Lothiriel back a few feet, but then the raven haired beauty went on the offense and managed to get Arianna to step back towards the line of women surrounding them. They spread out as the pair broke the circle, twisting and turning in beautiful swirls and Eomer watched them, transfixed. There was no sound other than their swords and the fire in their eyes was enough to light the room.

Arianna struck and managed to get a hit in to Lothiriel's arm, drawing a thin line of blood. Lothiriel cried out as she stepped back, faltering in her offense. Arianna didn't stop, however, and Lothiriel was put on the defense, until she struck at her Queen, who had anticipated the move and Lothiriel fell once more.

"Don't let your anger invade your senses, Lothiriel. These are not men we will be fighting, they're orc, they don't understand emotion." Arianna held a hand out to her friend, who accepted. She stepped forward, grabbed Lothiriel's sword and tossed it to her.

"Again."

"Milady…"

"Again, Lothiriel."

Lothiriel straightened and gripped her sword more fiercely than before. She swung the sword a moment or two to get the feel back and then went on the offensive again. Their moves were delicate and purposeful, and Eomer didn't think that he had seen anything more beautiful than the two women before him, their swords clashing just like the spark in their eyes.

They twisted around the room once more until Arianna tossed Lothiriel with a fancy trick of her sword and the raven-haired beauty swirled, almost knocking into Eomer, who's hands went out quickly to catch her. One grasping the wrist that held her sword to keep either of them from getting hurt and the other curling around her hip, steadying her, their arms above their heads and their hips mere millimeters from touching, their gazes locked.

He smiled at her and she smirked as he released her wrist and she took a step back, ending the sparks that had erupted upon their touch.

"Sorry." She told him softly, looking the other way. Arianna and the Lady Riders watched the pair's exchange with wide and unassuming eyes, though each one was worried for their General.

"Again Lothiriel, you cannot get distracted by anything." Arianna broke the silence and Lothiriel didn't dare disobey her Queen.

"Of course." She nodded, heading back over to where Arianna was standing, her heart beat a mile a minute and having nothing to do with the fight.

--

"You like her." Accused Eowyn as she joined her brother in the Great Hall, having seen the entire thing, along with their exchange after the healing of the men a few nights before.

"Who?" asked Eomer, feigning innocence. Eowyn wasn't going to let him get away with it that easily.

"You know very well who, brother, Lady Lothiriel, you feel for her."

"She is certainly like no one I have ever met before." He admitted with a carefree shrug and Eowyn glared at him as he passed her and exited out the nearest door. Sometimes she absolutely hated how stubborn her brother was.

--

Eomer stalked around the outside of the palace, praying that the cool wind would calm his nerves somewhat, but it wasn't working. He didn't know why he was so attracted to Lothiriel, physically and emotionally, but he was and it was a little disconcerting that a woman could fell him, the great warrior, so easily. And it was even more disconcerting that Eowyn could see his feelings and understand them so easily, when he didn't even understand them himself, and they were his feelings! His sister was infuriating sometimes. Well, all the time. He was absolutely surrounded by infuriating women!

--

Okay, I am totally lovin this story so far, and I love that some of you have put this on your Story Alerts, but I would love if you could drop me a line to tell me why you put it on your Story Alert. Please? (Gives wide puppy-dog eyes) please?

Read and review babies

Andrew's Slinky


	5. A Quiet Talk

--

--

Lothiriel found herself bored after the swordplay of the morning and discovered herself just outside the stables after a little over an hour of wandering around aimlessly. She stood in the warm sunlight for a moment, blinking up at the tall building before her, unsure and curious as to how she had ended up there, before stepping inside. She visited her own beloved stallion Breiseius, petting him lovingly along his dark and noble nose, pleased to see how well the Rohan masters had taken care of him. Breiseius tossed his head gaily as if to say how much he had missed the company of his mistress. Lothiriel laughed as she stepped back to miss the sting of his black mane.

"Breiseius, you are a strong and noble warhorse, no time to be prancing about like a colt," she scolded him teasingly.

"It must be your ladyship's company," a familiar voice broke the air and Lothiriel could feel a familiar tightening of all the muscles that covered her person, unusual but not all together unpleasant.

"My lord." She greeted Eomer accordingly, unsure of what his previous statement had meant exactly. When she turned to catch his gaze her breath stuck in her throat. Although his voice did not betray him, the expression on his face certainly did.

"Eomer, is something wrong?" she questioned, forgetting formalities in her concern. He waved a hand as if to dismiss the subject.

"Do not fear on my account, milady." He told her gently. She gave him an unsure glance; she never knew what to make of Lord Eomer.

"My lord, if I may inquire as to what has upset you, please, I would like to help if I could."

His expression was a little shocked but he quickly shook it away and gave a short, mirthless laugh.

"I doubt even your ladyship's diplomacy could change the mind of my uncle," he told her softly, his voice now betraying some of his feeling as he came to stand at the stall next to hers, lovingly stroking the nose of the strong stallion he called his own.

"What happened?" asked Lothiriel, feeling out of place for the first time in her life when dressed as a warrior but behaving like a woman.

"Nothing as of yet, but I fear I may have to leave these lands." He told her uncertainly, not turning to catch her gaze.

"Leave?" she asked, astonished at the news, "but you keep Rohan safe, your country's borders are secure because of you and your men, why would you leave?"

She was getting a little more upset than she felt she had any right to be, after all, who was she to defy a King?

"I'm afraid that my Uncle's mind is poisoned, he no longer sees what is best for Rohan, and with Theodred gone…" his voice caught and she did not beg any more information from him. She let him have his peace.

After a moment or two she wordlessly picked up a brush and started brushing Breiseius, reaching out once to stroke Eomer's steed Firefoot, who reacted just as Breiseius had. He tossed his strong head and tried to get closer to the woman beside him.

"Do you like the lady, Firefoot?" Eomer asked, somewhat teasingly and Lothiriel could feel the slightest of blushes stain her cheeks.

"The feeling's mutual, I assure you." She told Firefoot softly, stroking his neck once more. Eomer gave her a soft smile that she returned. All of sudden she wasn't so sure if that small interlude had been about Firefoot's affection at all. She was saved from having to say anything when one of the Rohirim appeared at the stable door.

"My lord, the King asks for you."

Eomer sighed heavily.

"Thank you."

He turned back to face Lothiriel as though to say something, but nothing came out.

"I wish you luck." She spoke quickly and his smile reappeared before he followed the man out the stable door.

--

Eomer and his men left that day, Lothiriel watched them go, all the while attempting to soothe an almost hysterical Eowyn.

"This is all Grima's doing!" Eowyn shrieked as she stormed about her quarters, Lothiriel watching in a morbid humor from the doorway.

"Milady, please, you're going into hysterics." She pleaded, careful to restrain her smile.

"How are you so calm?" questioned the blonde princess, her eyes dancing, "you care for my brother, do you not?"

Lothiriel was careful of her answer to the wicked question.

"He is a good man," She started hesitatingly before seeing that Eowyn didn't judge that as a satisfactory answer, "well, I…it is not my place to care for someone of his station." It was a diplomatic answer that Eowyn would have no part in.

"Oh for heaven's sakes!" she tossed her hands in the air, " you are both stubborn as mules!"

"Both milady?" asked Lothiriel uncertainly.

"Yes, both, handing me the same answer to the same question." Eowyn stormed about, not realizing the information she had let slip.

"Milady? I don't understand."

"You and my brother, dancing around feelings that are as clear as day."

"Feelings?!" Lothiriel wasn't sure of what to make of that.

Eowyn just sighed and threw her hands up, leaving the room, and Lothiriel to her thoughts.

--

Arianna and Lothiriel had been walking around the Great Hall talking of their plans now that their greatest supporter had been banished from the kingdom that they found themselves in when they heard voices in the throne room.

"Who are they?" asked Lothiriel as she and Aria poked their heads into the room to see what was going on and seeing a red haired dwarf, a tall, blonde elf and a man with dark hair, a white wizard before them, talking to Grima.

"I haven't the faintest idea, but if I didn't know any better, I'd say that was Gandalf." Arianna replied, her voice unsure and Lothiriel turned her head to look at her queen.

"I thought Gandalf was the Grey wizard."

"He is."

"You don't think its Sauruman?" Lothiriel asked, fear creeping into the question and Arianna shook her head.

"No, Sauruman has had the king's mind for months now, he wouldn't risk coming here."

Lothiriel and her queen watched uncertainly from the sidelines as the pale wizard before them threatened Grima with his staff. Both reacted with shock as the man, elf, and dwarf all fought off the Rohan guards as if they were nothing more than flies buzzing about. Gandalf, or whoever he was, advanced on the king, his staff out.

"What do we do?" Lothiriel questioned hesitantly, not sure if the wizard was there to help or harm. Arianna remained quiet, her face passive as she viewed the goings on before them.

The king and wizard battled for a moment, and only a moment, before Eowyn appeared from the shadows and tried to step forward to aid her uncle. The man that had arrived with the newest guests took hold of her, keeping her back from the mental battle.

The battle waged on until, finally, Gandalf was victorious and Eowyn tore from her captor's arms to help her uncle.

The two Lady Riders watched in fascination as the feeble man that they had met just weeks earlier was in fact, a man no older than fifty, his eyes clear and his face relatively smooth.

"Eowyn?" Lothiriel questioned from her place against the nearest pillar as the blonde princess was hugged by her now healthy uncle. Eowyn turned her smiling face to her friend and the moment was calm until Grima was forcibly thrown from the steps of the Golden Hall, King Théoden on his heels.

"So much for a feeble king." Arianna voiced her opinion as she and Lothiriel watched from the top of the stairs with Eowyn. Lothiriel smiled, glad that finally they had someone else on their side.

--

"Your ladyship's company is requested in the Golden Hall."

Lothiriel nodded to the Rohan maiden and shut the door behind her, carefully replacing her funeral clothes with ones that she didn't feel like death itself in. She hesitated just a moment before strapping her sword to her side, feeling silly for letting thoughts of Eomer and what he would think of her infiltrate her mind. He was far away now, and there wasn't any way to change that, not now.

"Lothiriel?"

The brunette moved across the room, metal clanking as her sword hit her belt with each step, normally she would relish in the sound and the power that she found in it, but now today. Today it felt heavy and ugly and she no longer wanted to be a warrior, but it was best not mentioned.

She opened the door before her to reveal her queen, dressed in the finest gown she owned, crystals adorning her hair.

"We must hurry."

Lothiriel nodded and closed the door behind her to follow her queen down to where they were waited upon.

--

"What is this?" Arianna asked as she entered the room and Gandalf, along with his three riding companions, Eowyn, King Théoden, his guards, and two small children sat and waited for them.

"We're discussing war, and we needed your opinion, milady." King Théoden spoke first, regarding the women before him with respect as the newest four looked on at them in wonderment, having never seen a female warrior, even if she wasn't in her full battle regalia.

"My opinion didn't seem to matter much just a day ago." Was the cold reply and Lothiriel watched the King's reaction, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword, a movement not gone unnoticed by Gandalf.

"We are all friends here, no need for weapons, Lothiriel." He spoke to her, his voice soothing, but Lothiriel retained her grip.

"I have an obligation to defend my queen, white wizard."

He smiled at her gently, almost as if he had expected that reaction.

"Queen Arianna of the Barazinbar and her most faithful friend Lothiriel. Milady, Aragorn, son of Arathorn, Gimli son of Gloin and Legolas of the Woodland Realm."

Gandalf introduced them all and that seemed to relieve some of the tension, the two Lady Riders no longer feeling attacked.

"You rule the Barazinbar?" Gimli asked suddenly, a gleam to his beady eyes. Lothiriel gave him a soft smile as Arianna laughed lightly at his enthusiasm.

"I merely rule her people, not the mountain itself."

Lothiriel caught Eowyn's eye but the blonde princess turned away, pulling a blanket around the shoulders of the little girl sitting before her.

"What happened?" Lothiriel asked, favoring the children with a sweet smile that they returned.

"The Wild Men burned their village."

"Where is Mama?" the little girl interrupted and Lothiriel's heart wrenched.

"Shh, little one, we'll find your mother." She whispered to her, kneeling down to her height, a calming hand resting on her small shoulder.

"This is but a taste of what Sauruman will unleash." Gandalf pointed out to King Théoden who sighed heavily, his head in his hands.

"The Wild Men are tearing through the Westfold, burning as they go, rick, cot, and tree." Eowyn supplied, obviously favoring Gandalf's point of view, but hesitant to say it out loud.

"We must do something." Arianna spoke, glancing at the king, who didn't look back.

"Ride out and meet him head on, draw him away from your women and children." Gandalf supported and Lothiriel spoke.

"You must fight."

"You have 2000 good men riding north as we speak. Eomer is loyal to you, his men will return and fight for their king." Aragorn added, hoping that the thought of more troops would make the king more willing to fight.

"They will be 300 leagues from here by now. Eomer cannot help us." Théoden replied, his voice tired as he thought of his beloved nephew.

Lothiriel viewed the king before her angrily, upset that he could seem so defeated.

"And whose fault is that?"

He looked at her, anger in his features, but he retained his composure.

"I know what it is you want of me but I will not bring further death to my people. I will not risk open war." It was a response to Lothiriel's anger and to the question of whether to fight.

"Open war is upon you, whether you would risk it or not." Aragorn supplied somewhat coldly, making it clear that he found the King's cowardice unfavorable.

"The last I looked, Théoden, not Aragorn was King of Rohan."

"Then what is the King's decision?" Gandalf diffused any startings of a fight between the two men, and Théoden turned to view his old friend.

"I will not bring further death to my people. We will go to Helm's Deep."

Lothiriel and Arianna exchanged significant looks.

"You would flee, instead of standing and fighting for your people, for your land?" thundered the queen, outrage in her eyes and the guards of Rohan took several steps forward. Lothiriel drew her sword, but kept it low, loose in her hand and yet she was prepared to battle for her queen.

"You should listen, you've been out of this world for months now, you've no idea of what Sauruman is capable of. Your people will be trapped against that mountain with no hope of survival. You are sentencing them to death."

The indignation was palpable as the brunette warrior tightened her grip on her sword, the Rohan guards responding with several more steps of their own.

"Put your sword away, Lothiriel." Gandalf raised a hand, but the brunette wouldn't be so easily swayed.

"I do not answer to you."

Arianna raised a hand, speaking in her native tongue to her most faithful friend and warrior. Lothiriel hesitated for a moment before sheathing her sword once more, obvious distaste on her countenance but she remained silent at her queen's request. She even went so far as to take a respectable step back from the side of her queen, her head bowed in the respect expected of her.

"Lothiriel, we must put faith in the king's decision."

--


	6. Warg Riders

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Lothiriel watched from the steps of the Golden Hall as the entirety of the city started to empty, collecting their things.

The Lady Riders came out of one of the many stables, each already mounted on their rides, and their ranks looking tired and ragged, even though they had many days rest. They were preparing for a war that they had not originally intended to fight.

Arianna stepped behind her general, helmet in hand.

"We must leave soon Lothiriel, you take the West flank I will take east."

Lothiriel nodded, setting towards her half of the Lady Riders, a grim look upon her face. She had never really had the stomach for war, and yet could not be held back when help was asked for, she needed the excitement and the dependence of others, it was her job.

"West flank, you ride with me!" she called out to the ranks, and half of the Lady Riders split off, turning towards Lothiriel, who had yet to mount her horse. She grabbed tightly onto the reigns of Breiseius, pulling herself onto her mount with ease and leading her section of the ranks with great dignity.

The people of Rohan stared openly at the strange soldiers, having never experienced women fighting so obviously. Their clothes all blends of red and black, their armor silver and light, their swords hanging by their sides, their horses trimmed in the colors of their queen, and each soldier with their own marking on the back of their armor. Dragons with onyx eyes circled each other on the back of Lothiriel's armor, the symbol of the kingdom, a serpent devouring a phoenix exploded in swirls of color on Arianna's back, crowns, stars, trees, flowers, fairies, strong felines and noble horses adorned the armor of the Lady Riders, and even Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas stared openly at the women as they passed.

Arianna pulled her section forward, coming between Lothiriel and the people of Rohan, her back rigid and straight, her eyes sparkling with a sense of mischief. She was ready and more than excited for war. She lived for it. It was so much more to her liking than the diplomacy that she needed to have as a queen.

------

They had been traveling for a little over a day when Arianna gave leave for the Lady Riders to spread out over the ranks. She may be a queen from a far away country with little war experience at the magnitude that was now facing them, but she did know enough that Wormtongue would betray them. They were not safe as a group of mainly women and children. So she spread out her troops, having them encircle the long lines of Rohan people, their eyes sharp beneath their helmets for the dangers of the present world.

Lothiriel viewed the people of Rohan with harsh eyes. It wasn't in her nature to run, and running was exactly what they were doing. The only part that made it an even slightly satisfactory option was the good chance that they were being chased. Chasing meant fighting, and fighting was something that Lothiriel had great experience in.

"My Lady?" Aragorn appeared at her side and Lothiriel looked over at him, her dark hair fanning over her shoulders, catching the sunlight.

"Yes?" she asked, unsure of what the Ranger would want with her.

"This war, have you fought in something, anything, like it before?"

She smiled softly.

"No my Lord, the army of the Barazinbar is small and not very well versed in the truths of battle. But we are loyal to our queen and our queen is loyal to the cause. That is all we need know."

Aragorn nodded.

"You are a strong people."

Lothiriel sighed.

"Strong enough to fight, I hope."

He turned away and Lothiriel could feel an icy grip slide down her spine.

"Something isn't right." She murmured, feeling Breiseius grow antsy beneath her. She tried to calm him, but he was skittish, trying to turn away from the oncoming hill.

"Breiseius, calm down!" she shouted as he reared, nearly sending her to the grassy earth below. The people of Rohan looked worried as Lothiriel lost control of the stallion that was usually so calm and sweet. Eowyn viewed her with fear, gripping the reins of her own steed tighter, unsure as to what was happening.

"Wargs! We're under attack!" Aragorn appeared over the next hill, running towards Eowyn, who held the reins to his ride.

Arianna appeared next to Lothiriel, her eyes sparkling and her cheeks stained red with excitement.

"Lothiriel, take the starters, then the second section of the West flank."

Lothiriel nodded, calling out the orders to the troops, who all moved as one fluid group, galloping towards the oncoming Wargs and their riders, Lothiriel at their head.

Arianna pulled around, sending the rest of the troops with Eowyn and the people of Rohan as protection.

"Second section, stay together! Starters, fan out!" Lothiriel called orders as she rode on, the Wargs and their Goblin riders fully visible now, riding towards the fractured army full speed. They clashed like waves against rocks, knocking Goblins and men alike from their steeds, blood staining the ground even though no swords had yet been swung. Lothiriel and a good number of the Barazinbar warriors managed to stay on their horses, and the dark-haired general unsheathed her sword. She gripped it tight, a grim determination to her countenance as she came across her first Warg and its Goblin rider. She swung left then right, dispatching the ride and rider in two heavy swings. Blood stained her and Breiseius; the sticky red substance littering the ground and knocking Lothiriel from her ride. She hit the grass below but kept a tight grip on her sword and stood back up, her blue eyes searching out Breiseius who skittered away from the fight, prancing just on the edge of the bloodshed.

Lothiriel faced her next attacker and attempted to dispatch it just as she had her first, but they were not on a level playing field, the Goblin had a Warg and Lothiriel was steed-less. She managed to dispatch the Warg; gaining only a slight tear to the soft side of her armor, the teeth barely piercing skin but hitting her in such a way that was sure to leave a bruise. She hissed in pain but kept moving, dodging the Goblin as it came closer to her, broadsword raised, but she miscalculated and was sliced in the side just in the spot where the Warg had bitten her. She whimpered as she tumbled to the ground, her hand on her now bleeding side and the grip on her sword going lax. The Goblin stood over her, triumphant; then his head tumbled to the grass at her feet. A Rohan warrior moved on, his dark steed rearing. Lothiriel looked from the surprised and still face of the decapitated Goblin to the man that was now on the other end of the battle before counting herself lucky and standing, her fingers going to her lips creating a shrill whistle. Breiseius appeared at her side and she swung herself into the saddle with her good arm. She leaned heavily on his strong neck, rubbing him down and whispering thanks to him; more than thankful that he was trained so well.

She turned him towards the fight, watching in pride as her fellow Lady Riders fought valiantly, and without pause. They were a well-trained army if nothing else. She saw Gimli become trapped under two Wargs and their riders. She tried to get to him, attempting, in vain, to weave across the battle. She was knocked from Breiseius a second time and found herself immobile on the ground. Her side pounded as though her heart resided there and she moaned, attempting to stand but failing miserably. She coughed and could feel blood gather at the corners of her mouth.

She did manage to raise her fingers to her lips for another whistle and Breiseius appeared at her side. She pulled herself onto his back with her good arm and directed him to the edge of the battle, knowing that she was no good now, she was injured and the fight was dispersing.

"How many, Sheatha?" she called out to her second in command and the honey-blonde turned to look at her, her dark eyes sparkling.

"Four, milady."

"And how many of ours?"

Sheatha looked around the battlefield and did a mental count.

"Twelve milady."

Lothiriel nodded and gathered her troops.

"We leave the dead." King Théoden called, his voice tired and regretful. Sheatha looked at Lothiriel, her eyes questioning, the expression on her face clearly stating that she did not think that leaving was an acceptable option, that it was undignified for their dead. Arianna appeared next to them.

"He's right, we do not have the time to bury them properly, take their names Sheatha, and we will come back for them."

Lothiriel hesitated for a moment but then shrugged at Sheatha, following her Queen down the hill towards those left alive and noticed one face was missing.

"Where is Lord Aragorn?"

Legolas hung his beautiful blonde head and looked away, Gimli swore under his breath and Lothiriel instantly understood. She offered a funeral prayer from her home country and wished Aragorn peace. She would never understand death but she had more than enough experience with it.

"What now milady?" she questioned as she rode beside her Queen, unsure of their position.

"We keep fighting Lothiriel," Arianna looked over at her old friend and saw the blood.

"Are you injured?!"

Lothiriel looked down at her damaged arm and sighed heavily, knowing better than to try to hide it.

"Yes, but it isn't too horrible."

Arianna looked skeptical.

"I know what you are thinking, but do not doubt me so, it isn't anything that should keep me out of battle in the future."

"It is the near future, Lothiriel."

The raven haired general sighed and shifted her bad arm, hoping that the bleeding would stop soon.

"I will fight when you need me, my lady."

Arianna continued to look unsure but left it at what it was, she knew Lothiriel's strengths and weaknesses and knew that nothing short of a direct order would keep her best fighter off the battle field.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Lothiriel was feeling rather faint when they finally reached Helms Deep. Sheatha was riding beside her to make sure that she did not fall. Arianna ahead of them, clearing the way to reach the rest of their troops and the healers.

"Milady?" asked Sheatha as Lothiriel tumbled from atop Breiseius, barely keeping her footing.

"I'll be all right, Sheatha, make sure Breiseius is tended to."

"Lothiriel, perhaps…"

"I will see the Healers Sheatha," Lothiriel replied with a heavy sigh that stopped short, her side hindering any deep breathing. With that she disappeared into the great crowd of Rohan people, hiding herself from the Healers and from her Queen's searching eyes. She knew that Arianna would request that she stay behind when they went out to battle in the near future and could not handle being alone and worthless when the people she loved were dying for her. It was her job to lead her people into victory, to protect her queen.

Dark clouds edged on her vision and she tried to blink them away, but they stayed, as stubborn as she, on the edge of her eyes. She coughed, blood appearing once more, and then she tilted. The ground came up to meet her and she felt the skin on her temple tear as though the thinnest sheet of paper.

Light greeted her eyes and then shapes swam before her. Whispered voices that struck fear into her heart. For a moment she thought she had passed into the lands of Valhalla, the land of warrior souls.

"She is waking, retrieve our Queen."

"Sheatha." It was barely above a whisper.

"Hold still, Milady, you are injured."

A warm hand appeared on her shoulder but she turned from it, attempted to stand.

"What is she doing up!" commanded a strong voice. Arianna, all her anger out before the world stood in the doorway of the Healers room and watched as her beloved general and friend destroyed her body.

"I can fight." It was meant to come out as a command, a strong denial of her pain. It was a whisper also.

"You will stay here and heal. We will fight."

"NO!" the first she would ever stand up to her queen in such a violent manner.

"Lothiriel, I am you queen, and I command you to stay where you are, or suffer the penalties."

"You would destroy me?" asked Lothiriel, knowing the consequence of openly defying their queen. Death.

"I will not watch you destroy yourself, Lothiriel. You will stay behind." With a swift turn on her heel, Queen Arianna was gone.

Lothiriel lay back on her cot, let the Healers tend to her side, but she knew that whether she died in battle or by the hands of her queen, she would fight this night.

-------------------------------------------------------

The call for all able-bodied men and boys resounded off the steep rocks of Helms Deep and Lothiriel groaned as she rolled off the cot she had stayed upon for the last three hours by the orders of her queen. She was going to fight.

"Sheatha! I need Sheatha!"

The Healers looked at her, their eyes wide and questioning, but they did as they were told and retrieved the third star general. Sheatha appeared before her superior, her armor already on and her eyes wide, unassuming but questioning all at the same time.

"Bring me my armor, Sheatha."

"Milady?"

"Bring it to me."

"Milady, you heard our queen…"

"I did, and I wish for you to bring me my armor."

Sheatha stood before her superior, her eyes wide, her breath harsh and her stance uneasy.

"I…"

"Sheatha, I command you to bring me my armor."

Sheatha bowed her head and left the room for a few moments, but returned with the silver and black plated armor that Lothiriel had requested, dragons with onyx eyes staring out blankly at the room.

Lothiriel accepted it with a wince and a smile. Sheatha stood still then, unsure of what was requested of her now.

"You may leave, Sheatha, I will not have you parry to my defiance."

"General…"

"Go Sheatha, prepare the troops in my stead."

Sheatha nodded, placing her helmet on and leaving the room silently. Lothiriel watched her go and set out her armor, preparing for the pain that was sure to come. Her chain mail went on first, then her leg and arm plates. She tied them tight and then put on her back and chest plate, lashing them together as tight as she could, ignoring the pain that erupted in her side and the blood that boiled over, seeping out through the rivets in her armor. She stood before the surprised Healers and placed on her helmet. She nodded towards them and then left the room. Every step pained her, and so did every breath, but fighting was in her nature. Her mother, her father, her three sisters, and two nieces had all died in battle and she knew that she must follow in their footsteps. Battle was in her blood; she would not ignore its call.

-------------------------------------------------

She appeared on the steps of the fortress, and strayed as far away from her troops as she could, knowing that her armor would giver her away immediately. She stood in the edge of the great rocks, watching as dark shadows moved on the edge of the horizon. She had heard the numbers had seen the fear. Ten thousand, against the mere three thousand that they possessed, it wasn't enough they weren't enough. They did not have the hope that she had wished they would possess at the fragile time that was before them. They stood on the edge of the breaking of the world and were to decide its fate. She was frightened.

A horn blew, something she did not recognize. Not an orc horn, nor one of theirs or one of the Rohan people.

Then she saw it, the troops that she had mistaken for orcs on the horizon. Elves. Ethereal, beautiful, and deadly elves, swords and shields raised. She had never seen anything like it. They were there to help they had sent aid.

"Lothiriel!"

Sheatha appeared at her general's side, her voice a harsh whisper.

"What do you wish to accomplish by fighting?"

"I am here to defend my people, and their right to exist, Sheatha. We will be victorious this night, now hurry, go back to the troops, you are to command them in my stead."

"But you are here."

"Yes, as a shadow, a ghost, nothing more."

Sheatha nodded and went off to do as she was told, the orc army marching towards them, shaking the very rock that they stood upon. Striking fear into the hearts of the brave.

"Lord, protect us."

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	7. The Battle of Helms Deep

The men of Rohan all stood proud in the rain, their hair plastered to their heads and their swords at the ready. Aragorn stood before the army of elves, a light to his eyes as he commanded them, he was a born leader, it could be seen in the way the elves and men alike looked at him. They trusted him, believed in him, they would follow him to the very end, no questions asked. Lothiriel sent a prayer up for him, he had escaped death once, she hoped that he would be so fortunate as to do it a second time.

The orcs stamped their feet and roared, shaking the foundations of rock around them and making each warrior tremble within himself. They were an army bred to destroy, no mercy, no hope, no greater purpose; they had nothing to live for, and therefore were the most dangerous type of warriors. Lothiriel watched Sheatha stand before the western flank, her armor glinting in the lights of the orc's torches. She looked frightened. The orcs got startling more organized, their stamping and roaring taking on a rhythm. Lothiriel gripped her sword tightly, her eyes searching out her queen, even if she was not supposed to be there, it was still her job to make sure that Arianna made it out alive. She would not neglect her duty because she might get in trouble; she had made a loyalty oath and would uphold it to her dying breath. Her dark eyes finally took hold of her queen, who looked just as shaken as Sheatha, having never seen an army like the one before them. With note on where her Queen was, Lothiriel stared back out at the growing dark, storm clouds gathering in the east, casting shadows, a foretelling of what was to come. The sun would rise red in the morning. For blood would be spilt this night.

It was a standoff. Neither army moving, a thickness to the air as they stared each other down. The storm clouds opened as the earth shook and the sky roared. Rain pattered across the armor and the archers stood at the ready, their arrows crossed, and their bows pulled. Aragorn held them, his arm raised, sword in hand, and his stance strong. Lothiriel watched with her warrior eyes, glancing for any tricks that the orcs might pull. Arianna's voice drifted over the rain as she called to her troops to stand strong, to pull their arrows and hold for the signal to fire.

An arrow was released, and an orc fell. The first move had been made and the orcs rushed upon the wall, their stomping and screaming scarring the air. A new barrage of arrows was thrown, and then another, then another, more and more orcs went down as more and more arrows rained upon them, but it wasn't enough. They weren't enough. The orcs had arrows of their own and several men went down. Then a nightmare. Ladders were raised to the wall and orcs started to climb, they would reach their prey any way that they knew how. Lothiriel watched in terror as they attacked her Queen and her troops. Ignoring the pain in her side and the fact that her sword arm was damaged as well, she ran along the break, cutting down anything in her path to get to her Queen. It was her job to protect her after all. She leapt in front of Arianna and beheaded the orc before her. Ignoring the calling of her name, she continued to swing, blood spraying all around her, the loud voice of Gimli in the back of her mind as he called his number of victims aloud to Legolas.

Her tenth orc fell before her, but gripped her armor, almost pulling her back over the wall with him and into the tens of thousands of his comrades below. She screamed, her sword falling from her hand as her now bleeding side hit the stone beneath her and almost caused her to black out from the pain. A hand gripped the back of her armor and hauled her to her feet, spinning her back and through the troops, who closed in around her, effectively blocking her from the fight.

Then disaster.

An explosion that she would never be sure exactly how it had come about erupted and took with it a large quantity of the rock wall that protected the people of Rohan and her own troops. Men and rocks went flying into the hoards of orcs. Aragorn and his men were now down on the earth below. Fighting as hard as they could to destroy the enemy that had no intention of surrender. They were breaking through the Keep, the gate exploding in splinters of wood. Everything was happening so fast, things were going so vastly wrong that it all seemed to slow as she watched it. The troops before her were still fighting, still swinging their swords, some of them in vain. More ladders and more orcs came up onto the wall, and more of the Lady Riders of the Barazinbar fell to their broadswords. Ladders were cut down, swords were swung, arrows shot, but they were losing, they were falling prey to the orcs surrounding them, and trapped against a wall of stone.

"Fall back!"

"Retreat!"

The sounds fell deaf on Lothiriel's ears as she attempted to get back to the front lines, but someone gripped her wrist, dragged her back and away from the wall. She went unwillingly with them, but in no condition to truly fight their grip. She was pulled inside the Keep, blood spurting from her wound.

"Hold fast, milady, there are Healers here."

It was Aragorn. He had saved her. Pulled her back from the edge. Her ears were ringing; she could hear voices, but couldn't make out the proper words. She felt herself drift, Aragorn's steady grip on her wrist the only thing anchoring her to the world of the living. She was losing blood that she could not afford to lose.

The orcs were attempting to breach the Keep, the men of Rohan defending it to the best of their ability, but the strength of Théoden was fading, and fast.

"Will you not fight?" questioned Lothiriel, knowing her voice was loud and harsh, and not caring.

"So much death. What can men do against such reckless hate?" Théoden replied, his voice and eyes dead.

"You must defend your people, be a King!" Lothiriel shouted, her anger welling up. Women that she knew, women that she respected and cared for were dead, and it was as if he was giving up.

"Ride out with me." Aragorn stated, his voice almost cautious, "Ride out and meet them."

"For death and glory." Théoden almost questioned.

"For Rohan. For your people."

Gimli sighed, "The sun is rising."

Aragorn looked up to the window as Théoden thought.

"Yes. Yes. The Horn of Helm Hammerhand shall sound in the Deep one last time."

"Yes!" cheered Gimli and Arianna. Théoden stepped closer to Aragorn.

"Let this be the hour where we draw swords together."

Lothiriel looked down at her side, she had no sword, she had lost it in the battle. Then, something hard and something familiar. The hilt of a sword.

"Do us proud, Milady."

Aragorn was handing her a sword, asking her to ride out and meet the orcs with them, he knew she was injured, but he knew she would fight. She smiled and nodded, taking a better grip on the hilt. She swung it twice to get the feel, and then stood behind the King of Rohan and the man that had saved them all as they swung onto their steeds. She left Breiseius back in the caves; she knew he had had enough of war. She ran out behind them, her Queen in her vision and together they started to clear the pathway of the darkness and the shadow. The sun shone brightly down upon them, almost as if to say that the shadow really had passed, that the goodness that they were, was defeating the evil that had threatened them.

The sword she had been given by Aragorn was sturdy, strong wrought steel, but nothing to the one she had lost, she was clumsy with it, missing her target more often than not, and then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw her worst fear brought to startling life in brilliant Technicolor. Arianna fell, a stray arrow piercing her leg, and a broadsword in her hip. Blood poured; her eyes wide and staring open as she fell.

A terrible scream erupted from Lothiriel's throat and she charged forward, cutting down the orc that had dared to attack a queen, and then more, and more as they circled around her, she, refusing to leave her queen's side, she didn't know if Arianna was dead or not, but she would not leave her to be sport of the creatures around them. The men continued forward, charging down orc, but leaving some in their wake, leaving them to Lothiriel's new sword and old anger. She was surrounded, and unaware of what was happening behind her, after all, the onyx eyes of her dragons didn't really see the world before them.

She didn't really feel it; that broadsword piercing her side, then her back, ripping her skin as though it were the thinnest of paper, spilling red blood – her life – all over the wet, muddy ground. She didn't feel it, not really.

But she could see the satisfied smirk on the curled grey lips of the orc who had desecrated her body. She swung out, her borrowed sword clanging against heavy armor, sending vibrations up and down her arm. She fell. All of it happening in slow motion. Her back hit first, mud spraying up around her as the rain soaked sky smiled down on her, the sun appearing overhead to mock her. Her shoulders bounced, pain shot through her neck, her hands numb and icy, the sword that had protected her for what seemed like so long, drenched in mud, stuck, useless. Just like her.

She crumpled next to her fallen queen, whose life she would give her own to save. Maybe she already had. For what did she know of dying? She was wounded, in pain, bloody. She could be dying, she probably was.

The battle continued to echo around her as the pain from her side intensified, her back searing red hot beneath her armor. But there were new sounds, hooves, more horses. More horses meant more soldiers. She knew that should be significant, but her muddled mind couldn't grasp the name on the tip of her tongue or why new soldiers should mean something to her. The sun shone brighter, blinding her and then familiar dark shadows echoed on the edge of her vision. She tried her best to blink them away. She had to fight; it wasn't in her nature to just give in. But it was out of her hands. The darkness grew as hands gripped her, lifting her up, putting her astride on a horse, someone's sturdy chest behind her, their arm wrapped tightly around her to keep her from falling. She groaned, her body slumping forward on reflex, but the arm shifted her, and her back hit the sturdy wall of muscle; her head lolling back in her helmet as pain and exhaustion took over. She tried to stay awake, to learn her savior's name, but the darkness claimed her.

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She drifted for what seemed like days, but was most likely hours. Dreams and reality wove together until she could not decipher the difference. Eomer's worried face hovered over her most often, his strong features gone soft with fatigue. Then hands, strong but trembling, fumbling over the clasps of her armor, attempting to remove it. She was lifted, her back and chest plate removed, then her leggings, her arm plates, her helmet, and finally her chain mail. Almost every piece stained sickly red with blood. She was exposed to the world and her healers now, left in nothing but soft jerk skin leggings and her scarlet tunic; the color deepened by her own blood. She whimpered, her arms heavy as she tried to lift them, sweat pouring down her back, the gash that resided there screaming in protest as she did her best to understand what was happening to her.

"Shh, milady, you mustn't move."

The voice was familiar but she was unsure to classify it friend or foe. She attempted to move again.

"No milady, no, please, do not move. You are hurt badly."

Hands gripped her wrists and ankles, then a third pair started to lift her tunic to reach her wounds. She panicked. Twisting and turning, every muscle and fiber of her being exploding in white-hot fire, screams tearing her throat raw. She couldn't understand, her fever was raging much too strong.

"Milady…"

"Stop!" the command was roared and all three pairs of hands stilled, their grips loosening, allowing Lothiriel to relax.

"She's fevering my lord. We need to seal her wounds, we cannot let them fester."

The commanding voice became soothing and soft.

"She's frightened."

The hands all relinquished their hold. A new pair descended upon her shoulders, lifting her into a sitting position.

"Lothiriel, I need you to stay calm."

His voice registered in her fever-addled brain and his name fell from her lips.

"Eomer…" it was meant to be a question, but she was much too tired to put any inflection into it.

One arm wrapped around the front of her shoulders, pinning her arms down. She struggled a bit, but his calming voice murmured in her ear.

"Do not be afraid, milady," his strong hand stroked her hair, "You have been wounded badly and need healing."

She whimpered, understanding healing for what it really was, pain.

"My men need to seal your wounds."

There was a faint hiss of steaming metal and Lothiriel put all of her strength and energy into struggling to get away.

"Lothiriel, please, stay calm."

Not even Eomer could soothe her. She was already in pain and not looking for any more.

"Milady, I do not want to have to restrain you." His voice was sharp, commanding, and Lothiriel knew the tone and understood instantly that he really would bind her to heal the wound. She bit her tongue to keep from crying out as the scent of fire reached her. She knew what was to come, had seen it, and had done it, many times before.

A salty piece of leather was forced between her teeth to protect her tongue. Her body wrapped tightly by Eomer's strong arms and the festering wound in her side exposed to the room. She trembled. Eomer whispered soothing words but none of them made any sense to her. Then blinding pain erupted. Fire burned through her wound, tears streamed from her eyes and muffled screams from her throat. She shook, no longer able to control her actions. She twisted and turned, her body buckling as her muscles tightened, attempting in vain to stop the fire exploding through them. And in the recesses of her mind she knew that the same experience was about to be played on her back. Then relief. The fire eased. Acrid smells weaved through her nose and somewhere it registered that the scent was her own flesh burning. Her tunic was pulled upwards again; the wound in her back exposed this time. The relief that had appeared was obliterated as that same fire exploded across her spine.

She lost all sense of time then. Never knowing if it was sleep or death where she existed. Sometimes her mother appeared beside her bed, and she would realize with a start that they had been talking and it was her turn to speak, but she wasn't holding up her end. Then her mother would smile and say in the most offhanded manner that they'd both died. Her father never came, but Arianna's did. The elderly king who was feeble no more. He didn't speak but an ice blue line rose from his fingertips through the air. Weaving up to the tall roof where at the point it touched the ceiling it erupted into blood and rained down on every person wounded or well in the room. No one noticed. She tried to call the blood to their attention, but no one responded. Then Eomer's face swam into view. He looked worried, his eyes like liquid flame, dark, stormy, tired. She attempted to call out to him, she needed his help, it was raining blood! Why wasn't anyone noticing? Why didn't he respond to her screams?

She reached out to him, her own blood boiling in her veins. She had a fever. Was she hallucinating? Seeing images of family that had long since passed wasn't a normal thing, was it? It had been too long, her wound, her fever, sickness welled up inside and she shook without any control. Eomer's gentle hands soothed her then. His calloused fingers smoothing over the fevered flesh of her arm, causing misty green light to erupt and weave through the air like strange colored smoke. He smiled at her.

He came every day after, holding a burning cup of bitter tea to her lips, begging her to drink, one hand with the cup, the other under her hair, helping her down the healing liquid. Sometimes she refused but he forced her to drink anyway and then he would sit beside her, his fingers gently stroking the inside of her wrist. She wasn't sure if he was an image created out of the fever, she also didn't care. She was grateful for him all the same. He kept her sane.

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"Eomer, I'm worried." Eowyn appeared over his shoulder, her brow furrowed.

"About what, dear sister?" he asked; turning in his seat to look at her, still holding Lothiriel's hand.

"You."

He started, looking surprised.

"Me? Why?"

She sighed, her gaze flickering over Lothiriel's prone and fevered form before returning to her brother's face.

"Lady Lothiriel has had this fever for some time now."

Eomer looked away, turning back towards the aforementioned warrior. Eowyn placed a gentle hand on his now tense shoulder.

"The Healers say she may not survive much longer, you may not have sealed her wounds in time."

Eomer flinched.

"They have done all they can, it's up to God now." she tried to soothe him. He didn't respond. Eowyn sighed and dropped a kiss to her brother's hair before turning back towards her quarters. Her brother was a stubborn man; he would never give up on the woman he had picked from the battlefield.

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Lothiriel fought the fever for another three days. She finally triumphed during first light of the fourth day. She shook no longer, her hallucinations gone, and some lucidness returned to her eyes.

"Milady?" Eomer's face once again hovered over her, his strong hand on her forehead and a smile on his lips.

"Your fever has broken."

Lothiriel could only manage a rather undignified grunt.

Eomer brought the bitter tea back and forced her to drink. She winced as the liquid burned and tickled her throat; she coughed and spluttered but Eomer stood firm, making sure she downed the appropriate amount of medicine. When he pulled the cup away she managed a glance around the room, her eyes searching.

"Aria?" she managed and Eomer sighed, taking her hand in his own.

"Lady Arianna was badly wounded." He glanced to his left and Lothiriel followed his gaze.

Arianna was lying prone on a cot, her eyes wide open but unseeing. Her once beautiful face bruised molted purples and greens. She was pale otherwise, her breathing shallow, barely heavy enough to move the sheet that covered her.

Lothiriel felt tears well up and her throat tighten. She turned her head back to look once more at the ceiling, choking on her emotion. She tightened her grip on Eomer's hand and he moved closer to her, his free hand smoothing back her hair.

"Is it as bad as I think it is?" she questioned him and he sighed heavily.

"Yes."

She nodded, tears escaping freely. Arianna was the only family she had left. She didn't know what she'd do if she lost her.

"The men say you and your battalion fought bravely."

She gave him the softest of smiles.

"Brave or not, it was you and your men who saved us."

He sat in silence, unsure of what to say. He was saved the trouble when Aragorn appeared, looking ragged and weary.

"Eomer, your uncle requests your presence."

Eomer nodded to the other man before turning back to the woman before him. He gently released her hand and stood. He was several steps from her when he turned back and was back at her side.

She looked questioningly up at him, confusion on her countenance. He leaned down and kissed her forehead.

"Rest well, milady."

He left her side, escaping the room with Aragorn and leaving Lothiriel to wonder if his kiss should burn into her memory as harshly as the iron had burned into her flesh three nights ago.

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OMG! It took me forever to get this chapter to become what I present to you today, and I am so sorry that it took me so long with it. But I stink at fight scenes, and I wanted to get to the romance so badly that I would undercut it, and make the Battle of Helms Deep much too short, and that wasn't such a good plan, because after all, Lothiriel is a warrior, she would fight in the battle even though she was wounded. So I hope you all like it and please, please, please review. Please?

~Andrew's Slinky


	8. Isenguard

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Another two days and the troops were back together, readying to leave the scarred battlefield and head to Isenguard. Lothiriel was still crippled, her side and back burning and screaming on a standard basis, but she ignored it. Her queen was wounded, unable to speak or give orders, and as the general of the Lady Riders, she was next in command, and needed to lead her troops, so she was determined to ride out with the men of Rohan and face the wizard at the second evil city.

"My Lady Lothiriel, what are you doing out of the Healing Chambers?"

Eomer's second in command, Eothain, came down the great hall towards her, concern etched into his features as he viewed her pulling her armor back on.

"I am to ride out to Isenguard with Aragorn and the others." She replied almost absent-mindedly as she tied her back and chest plates together, lancing her side, causing her to wince as flame shot through her muscles.

"Milady, you were badly wounded, are you sure that you can manage…"

"Yes." She snapped quickly, not bothering to turn over her shoulder to look at him, she knew what he was about to say, and while she had thought it herself many times, she refused to hear it from someone else.

"Does Eomer know of this?"

She paused and sighed deeply, shaking her head.

"No, he does not, and I do not see why it should worry him. With my queen wounded I am next in command with such matters."

He looked at her, conflict in his features.

"I fear for you Milady, you are badly wounded, are you certain you can ride out with the men?"

She smiled over her shoulder.

"I do appreciate the concern Eothain, but I am a very skilled rider."

Eothain nodded, watching her carefully.

"Eothain, you are to ride to Rohan with the others, are you not?"

He nodded again.

"May I ask a favor of you?"

He smiled.

"Anything for you, milady."

She reached out to him, took his hands in her own.

"I need you to watch over Arianna for me, please."

He nodded, squeezing her hands gently for a just a moment before taking his leave and heading out to prepare his horse.

Lothiriel finished pulling on her armor and sighed as heavily as her side would allow her. She didn't know what it was that worried her about Eomer's opinion of her, but she found herself unable to resist him, she wanted to know what he thought. His opinion mattered to her, and it still frazzled her mind. A horn blew somewhere off in the distance and Lothiriel hurried out into the sunlight, swinging herself up onto Breiseius, and joining the line that held Gandalf, Aragorn, King Théoden, Gimli, Legolas, and Eomer himself.

"Lady Lothiriel, what is the matter?" questioned King Théoden, mistaking her look of pain for one of worry.

"I am to ride with you my Lord." She returned as softly as she could, her side protesting to the movement of her breathing.

"Ride to Isenguard with us?" questioned Eomer out of turn, something akin to anger in his eyes.

"Yes, with my queen injured it is my duty to ride in her place." She sat straighter in her saddle, daring any one of the men before her to contradict her statement.

"You are still wounded." Eomer took the bait.

"Yes, I know that. I am still riding out with you."

Aragorn hid a smile at the outrage on Eomer's features, but leaned in to make peace.

"It is best we start moving, besides, we will need someone from the Lady Riders to help aid in our decisions, they are a part of this as well now."

Lothiriel sent a grateful smile in Aragorn's direction as Eomer brooded gloomily behind his friend's back, wishing that he had thought of a good excuse to keep Lothiriel from coming along, or at least have kept his sister's large mouth shut in her complaints that she was not allowed to accompany them.

"Very well, it is decided then, we make our way to Isenguard, and the dealings of an evil wizard." Gandalf dug his heels into Shadowfax's sides and the magnificent stallion took off, each horse falling in line behind him.

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They had been riding hard for the past few hours and had finally slowed down to a steady walk to give the horses a break. Eomer had taken up his place next to his uncle, while Aragorn dropped back to talk with Lothiriel, finding her pleasant company.

"Why do you wear your armor, my Lady? We are not riding into battle."

Lothiriel smiled, and Eomer dropped back a bit behind his uncle, going unnoticed by all but Gandalf and Théoden.

"It lances my side, my Lord, making it easier to breathe."

Aragorn seemed surprised by that.

"Has your side been paining you greatly?"

Eomer dropped further back.

Lothiriel seemed to struggle with what to say. She wanted to appear every bit the warrior that she was, and yet, there was something in Aragorn's face that told her he would not think her weak if she told the truth. She went with the truth.

"Yes, my back also, the Healers said that I should rest as often as possible, but with Arianna injured as well, it is my duty to take up her place, never mind my pain."

Aragorn seemed to like that, he grinned heartily at her as Eomer finally dropped all the way back to her other side.

"Do you need rest, milady?" he questioned, and Lothiriel granted him a frosty glare.

"Do you? Horse master?"

He laughed outright at that.

"I will never need rest from riding Firefoot, milady."

She smiled, and favored his steed a happy glance.

"He is a wonderful stallion." She acknowledged as Aragorn headed up to talk to Gandalf, sending a soft smile over his shoulder at the two now lost in conversation.

Gandalf followed his gaze and gave a knowing grin.

"They do complement each other, don't they?"

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Lothiriel gasped as they emerged from the woods and the large tower of Orthanc loomed darkly above them. She had never been far outside the realm of her own lands and there was a foreboding shiver that accompanied the sight before her.

"Welcome, my lords, to Isenguard!" a drunken little man stood on the outer wall, a self-satisfied smirk on his lips. He was so small, in fact, that Lothiriel would have mistaken him for a child if he were not smoking a pipe.

Gimli exploded beside her.

"You young rascals! A merry hunt you've led us on and now we find you feasting and…and smoking!"

"We are sitting on a field of victory," the other small man, who was still seated, said, with a smug sense of satisfaction, "enjoying a few, well earned comforts. The salted pork is particularly good."

"Salted pork?" asked Gimli, a gleam to his eye and Lothiriel did her best to conceal her laughter, but caught the eye of the two men sitting on the wall.

"A lady." Exclaimed the second, his eyes going wide and Lothiriel favored him with a soft smile.

"Well then," stated the other, "welcome, dear lady to Isenguard, I am Meriodoc Brandybuck and this is my companion Peregrin Took."

Lothiriel laughed some more.

"Thank you for such a gracious welcome; I am Lothiriel of the Barazinbar Lady Riders."

"Hobbits." Gandalf shook his head and Merry grinned.

"We're under orders from Treebeard, who has taken over management at Isenguard."

"Well, then what are we waiting for, take us to him." Demanded Gandalf, impatient to start what they had come to do. Merry and Pippin nodded and jumped down from the wall. They bickered for a moment or two between themselves and when Gandalf finally became impatient enough to demand what was wrong they grinned as innocently as they could.

"Well, we were trying to decide who should ride with Lady Lothiriel." Pip stated in his straightforward sort of way and Lothiriel tossed her head back and laughed, the sound echoing through the trees behind them.

"Well, I can never remember being so popular before." She smiled down at the two of them.

"Pip, ride with Aragorn, Merry with Lothiriel as long as she doesn't object." Gandalf took charge of the situation, and Aragorn lifted Pip up behind him as Lothiriel aided Merry in his ascent to Breiseius's back, who to his credit never even twitched at the feeling of Merry's small feet on his sides.

Then, once everyone was settled, they headed over towards the tower and a giant, moving tree.

"Young Master Gandalf, I'm glad you've come," the tree stated, and Lothiriel could never remember being so awestruck before, "wood and water, stock and stone I can master, but there's a wizard to manage here, locked in his tower."

"Show yourself." Aragorn was impatient, and Lothiriel felt a sense of foreboding at his words, there was something about this place she didn't like, it was still too covered in the slime of evil.

"Be careful, even in defeat Saruman is dangerous." Gandalf warned, and Merry tightened his grip on Lothiriel's armor. She reached an arm around to him and looked back.

"Do not fear Merry."

He smiled and nodded.

"Then let's have his head and be done with it." Gimli growled and Lothiriel knew that he wished he had his axe in his hand.

"No! We need him alive. We need him to talk."

"You have fought many wars and slayed many men Théoden King, and made peace afterwards. Can we not take counsel together as we once did my old friend, can we not have peace, you and I?" Saruman stated from the top of his tower, a black staff in his hand, and Lothiriel felt her heart constrict painfully at the sight and sound of him. His desperateness was felt throughout the space around them, and his voice dripped of contempt for the people before him.

Théoden glared up at the former white wizard and Lothiriel knew that if Saruman were before him he would release his anger and fury through his sword.

"We shall have peace. We shall have peace when you answer for the burning of the Westfold and the children that lie dead there. We shall have peace when the lives of the soldiers whose bodies were hewn even as they lay dead against the gated of the Hornburg, are avenged! When you hang from a gibbet for the sport of your own crows, we shall have peace!" Théoden yelled up, anger in his eyes and heart. Lothiriel felt a fire lit within herself as he spoke and sent her own glare up to the wizard before them. She felt Eomer stir beside her and looked over to see a homicidal look upon his face and prayed deep within herself that she would never have to see that look on his face again. It sent fear into her heart.

"Gibbets and crows? Dotard!" Saruman exploded, then he turned to Gandalf, "What do you want Gandalf Greyhame; let me guess, the keys of Orthanc, or perhaps the keys to Barad-dur itself along with the crowns of the seven kings and the staffs of the five wizards?!"

"Your treachery has already cost many lives. Thousand more are now at risk. But you could save them Saruman; you were deep in the enemy's counsel." Gandalf's voice was soothing, and he ignored any comment made about him.

"So you have come here for information? I have some for you." Saruman sounded extremely pleased with himself as he pulled a perfect sphere of black marble from his robes, but there was something evil festering in its depths and it made Lothiriel uneasy. "Something festers in the heart of Middle-Earth, something that you have failed to see, but the great eye has seen it. Even now he presses his advantage, his attack will come soon. You are all going to die."

Merry trembled behind her, a whimper escaping his throat and Lothiriel extended a hand to him, sending a dark look to Saruman.

"They're words Merry, nothing more, do not be afraid."

Eomer spared her a glance but she kept her gaze on the wizard.

"But you know this don't you Gandalf. You cannot think that this Ranger will ever sit upon the throne of Gondor. This exile, crept from the shadows will never be crowned king. Gandalf does not hesitate to sacrifice those closest to him. Those he professes to love. Tell me, what words of comfort did you give to the Halfling before you sent him to his doom? The path that you have set him on can only lead to death."

"I've heard enough. Shoot him. Stick an arrow in his gob." Gimli growled low and directed the last part to Legolas who started to pull an arrow, but was halted by Gandalf.

"No. Come down Saruman, and your life will be spared."

"Save your pity and your mercy, I have no use for it!" shouted Saruman, directing the end of his staff towards Gandalf and a ball of fire erupted from the tip and traveled down the side of the tower, engulfing Gandalf and Shadowfax.

The other horses started to panic, and the rest of the group fell back a bit. Lothiriel could feel the heat from the fire and shielded her eyes. Breiseius reared slightly but she managed to keep control of him and turned him around, once, twice, before he finally calmed down.

Gandalf emerged from the fire, unscathed, he hadn't even moved.

"Saruman, your staff is broken," And with that said, the black staff that Saruman held in his hand shattered and disintegrated to nothing more than dust. Behind a livid Saruman a dark figure started to emerge, with a pale face and dark, greasy hair. He was curled into himself, terror on his features and the group recognized him immediately.

"Grima, you need not follow him. You were not always as you are now; you were once a man of Rohan. Come down." Théoden called out, mercy in his features now. He felt sorry for his old friend and advisor.

"A man of Rohan? What is the house of Rohan but a thatched barn were brigands drink in the reek and their brats roll on the floor with the dogs? The victory at Helms Deep does not belong to you, Théoden, Horse-master. You are a lesser son of greater sires."

"Grima come down. Be free of him." Théoden was visibly affected by what Saruman said, but he ignored it, only now trying to help his friend.

"Free? He will never be free." Saruman seemed offended by the very idea of freedom.

"No." Grima sounded angered and terrified.

"Get down, cur." Saruman slapped Grima across the face, sending him tumbling to the ground, looking very much like a beaten dog.

"Saruman, you were deep in the enemy's counsel, tell us what you know."

"You withdraw your guard and I will tell you where your doom will be decided. I will not be held prisoner here."

Grima leapt up, a dagger in hand and stabbed Saruman in the back, once, twice; an arrow whizzed through the air and made its target right into Grima's chest. He fell back as Saruman tumbled forward. Flipping over himself several times before finally landing on his back, one of the wooden planks of the watermill slicing through his body like it were butter. Merry groaned and Lothiriel shielded her eyes. It was a gruesome sight.

"Send word to all our allies and to every corner of Middle-Earth that still stands free. The enemy moves against us, we need to know where he will strike."

The waterwheel began to turn and as it did, the black marble fell from Saruman's sleeve and into the water.

"The filth of Saruman is washing away. Trees will come back to live here, young trees, wild trees." Treebeard stated in his slow way, taking the time to choose his words carefully.

"Pippin?" asked Aragorn as Pippin vaulted off the back of his horse and waded through the water. He bent down and scooped up the marble sphere, staring into it with a fixed expression, almost in a trance.

"Bless my bark!" said Treebeard, sounding extremely surprised to see the sphere.

"Peregrin Took, I'll take that my lad," Gandalf came up to Pip and he looked reluctantly at the Wizard, holding the sphere gingerly, "quickly now."

He handed it to Gandalf who covered it immediately.

Lothiriel steered Breiseius towards the woods.

"Let us be rid of this place, its evil will take much longer to wash away."

Eomer nodded and started to follow her, the rest of the company joining suit, no one looking back.

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I like this chapter, yet something seems off about it, so I might decide to tweak it and then put it back up, the same plot will be there, there just might be some more in-depth things, nothing major. I may tweak it, I might not. I still haven't decided, but I wanted to get this up, so sorry for it being so late.

As always,

Read and review my darling,

~Andrew's Slinky


	9. Parties for Broken Hearts

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They reached Rohan once more in a matter of two days, and Lothiriel was finally able to ride without her armor lanced so tight, her wounds were beginning to heal. They rode hard and fast, arriving at the gates and heading straight to the Great Hall. Eothain stood there, a grim look upon his face. Lothiriel felt her heart constrict as he walked straight to her, not even taking the time to great his superiors.

"Eothain?"

He didn't answer her, he just shook his head.

"Arianna how is she?"

He sighed.

"It isn't good, my lady." He told her regretfully and she paled visibly, looking as though she was going to faint. Then she spun on her heel and headed straight away to the Healing Chambers, ignoring anyone else in the room. She ran through rooms and halls, her heart pounding more and more every second until she reached the doorway to the Healing Chamber. One of the Healers tried to stop her, but she breezed right past him, pushing him out of the way and hitting her knees painfully at Arianna's bedside.

"Ari?" she asked, reaching out and gently taking her queen's hand. She trembled, looking upon the face that she had come to recognize as a sister. It was pale, bruised, sunken in as though she had been dead for days. She was cold, her skin slightly clammy, and Lothiriel could feel her heart break. It seemed every minute the Queen of the Barazinbar was closer to death and if death were to take her, Lothiriel wasn't anywhere near certain of what she or the Lady Riders would do. Arianna wasn't married, she had no heir; she herself was an only child. There was no one to take over, no one to rule, and then what would they do without a King or Queen?

"Lady Lothiriel?"

She ignored the Healer; tears welling in her eyes as the events of the last few weeks finally reached her and overwhelmed her entirely. She sobbed on Arianna's shoulder.

"Come back to me, Ari," she begged, squeezing her sleeping queen's hand, "please, do not abandon me now. You must get well, you must."

Everyone in the Chambers left her alone, letting her sob out every feeling and fear she had. She sat on the hard stone floor, crying and holding her lady's hand for an hour or more. Even when she was done crying she continued to sit and hold her lady's hand. She was afraid to leave her, afraid that if she went, then when she came back she would have to bury her queen.

"Lothiriel?" Eowyn stepped into the chambers, curiosity in her voice as she viewed her friend. Lothiriel turned her head to look at the blonde behind her, her blue eyes tired and puffy from her recent tears.

"Yes Eowyn?"

Eowyn smiled softly at her and kneeled by her side, gripping her shoulders.

"Come, you must rest and then go to the party."

"Party?" asked Lothiriel as Eowyn helped her stand.

"Yes, a victory party, come, rest and my ladies and I will find you something to wear other than your armor."

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Lothiriel sat shakily down at one of the many tables placed in the Great Hall, butterflies erupting in her stomach. She viewed the room, taking note of her Lady Riders and the men of Rohan that she knew, and plotted various ways to hurt Eowyn for making her wear a gown. She had been perfectly content in her leggings and tunic, but the Rohan Princess had insisted that if she were to go to a party, then she must dress appropriately. Lothiriel had the feeling though that it had a lot less to do with propriety and a lot more to do with a certain Third Marshal of the Riddermark. She was dressed in an old gown of Eowyn's, made out of the lightest blue velvet she had ever seen. It was a beautiful item of clothing, but she was a bit uncomfortable and certain that she did the beautiful garment no justice. However, to Eowyn's credit, she had let Lothiriel keep her hair down and about her shoulders the way she liked it and did not ask her to put on any makeup or jewelry.

"Lady Lothiriel?"

Lothiriel turned at the voice and smiled warmly when she saw who it was. She stood.

"Good evening Lord Aragorn."

He smiled back at her, his eyes traveling up and down her new attire.

"You look lovely." He complimented her and she had the good graces to blush.

"Thank you, it was Eowyn's doing."

He nodded and sat beside her as the room started to fill in even more. King Théoden came from the back of the room, dressed in the finery of his country, strong, proud, with Eomer following behind as was the custom. Théoden reached his throne as Eomer trailed behind, nodding to people in the room, his friends and fellow countrymen. He nodded to Aragorn, who nodded back, and then his eyes traveled to Lothiriel. He seemed not to recognize her for a moment and then his eyes went wide, and he watched her even as he went to stand beside his uncle. She smiled at him and nodded to acknowledge his presence, slightly embarrassed with the look he was currently giving her. Then, almost as if he could read her thoughts, he noticed that he was staring, blushed, and turned away.

Eowyn appeared then, nodded to both Aragorn and Lothiriel and filled the goblet she held with water, kneeling before her uncle and handing it to him. He accepted it with a smile and held it out to the room. The room stood and picked up their goblets and flagons, holding them out as well.

"Tonight we remember those who gave their blood to defend this country. Hail the victorious dead."

"Hail!" they all chorused and then they drank. Lothiriel raised her flagon to her lips and paused, sending a prayer to whoever was listening that Arianna would not join the ranks of those they were honoring. She took a sip of her drink and then put her flagon down, determined not to drink anymore, she was already starting to feel very melancholy even with the happy atmosphere that had now erupted around her.

"My lady."

She spun to meet the warm gaze of Eomer, a slight smile to his lips and she attempted a smile back, hoping that she was as good an actress as she thought.

"Good evening, Lord Eomer."

"Do you not think that we are past formalities, Lothiriel?" he asked her and she looked startled, not only by his question but by the way that her name, just her name, sounded from his mouth and the way it made her feel.

"I do not know Eomer, do you believe we are?" she questioned and he grinned.

"I had hoped."

They smiled for a moment, both knowing what getting past formalities meant for them.

"You look beautiful tonight."

She nodded, looking down at the gown.

"It was all Eowyn's doing."

Eomer smiled, finding it difficult to get rid of the happy feeling that was currently flooding his system.

"My sister is very stubborn."

"Yes," a nod, "she is."

He cleared his throat as they walked together throughout the party.

"She told me of your crying."

Lothiriel looked uncomfortable.

"Yes, I do not know what I would do without my queen, I'm afraid that my emotions got the better of me."

He reached out to her, and his hand grazed hers for just a moment before he remembered his place.

"I understand, and I do hope that she gets well soon."

"As do I."

They stood in silence for a moment before Lothiriel shook her head.

"Well, this is a victory; we should not talk of such dark tidings, not tonight."

He nodded.

"Whatever you wish, Lothiriel."

"Eomer!" Eothain called out to his friend and the couple turned to face him.

"The men are calling for a drinking game, you must come and watch." Eothain's grin was infectious and when he noticed Lothiriel he gave Eomer a knowing grin and a wink.

"I…" Eomer didn't seem to know what to say and Lothiriel gestured to his men.

"Go, watch their game."

He smiled at her and once more his hand grazed hers. Then he was gone, along with Eothain to watch the men drink themselves stupid.

Lothiriel walked among the party for a few moments before coming to investigate the drinking game that Eomer had been watching for the past few minutes. She came to stand next to the Rohan Prince and he glanced down at her in surprise.

"Who is winning?' she questioned, watching the men, along with Legolas and Gimli, drink.

"I believe Legolas is; he hasn't spoken in the last five minutes."

Gimli belched, and laughed as he was handed another flagon. Lothiriel gave him an inquisitive look, but did not comment on the drunkenness of the dwarf before her.

"I do believe you're right." she told Eomer and they laughed together as Gimli called for another ale.

"Here's to dwarves that go swimming with little hairy women." Gimli called and Lothiriel laughed. Eomer looked down at her, surprised that she was laughing and she attempted to control her laughter but couldn't and just enjoyed the merriment of the moment. Eomer grinned, he rather enjoyed her laugh.

Gimli gulped down more drink and Legolas looked up, seeming worried.

"I feel something."

Eomer looked surprised and Lothiriel bemused.

"A slight tingle in my fingers, I think it's affecting me."

"What did I say?" questioned Gimli, sounding rather amused, "he can't hold his liquor."

He went cross-eyed and then passed out, falling backwards, chair and all.

"Oh!" Lothiriel leaned over the table, "Gimli, are you all right?"

He didn't answer.

Legolas looked at Eomer.

"Game over."

Eomer just laughed and had two of his men drag Gimli over into a corner to sleep off his losing.

Music struck up then, and some of the men pushed tables back as couples started rather lively dances. Lothiriel clapped along with the beat for a moment until Eomer came to stand before her, a hand out and she looked up at him, the butterflies from earlier returning full force.

"Dance with me, Lothiriel."

She laughed and shook her head.

"Impossible Eomer, I do not know the steps."

He laughed and shrugged.

"Neither do I."

That convinced her and she took his hand, he led her to the dance floor, and together they attempted to follow the beat of the music. More often than not they looked uncoordinated and awkward but were laughing so hard that it didn't matter, they were just enjoying themselves.

The song ended and they clapped along with the rest of the couples, still laughing from their disastrous attempt at dancing a Rohirrim reel.

Some of the men from Eomer's brigade came up to him then as Merry and Pippin hopped up onto the nearest table and started to sing and dance a rather lively tune about their hometown pub. Lothiriel watched as Eomer was swept into the group of his men and watched Merry and Pippin dance and sing, finding herself happy. Then a wave of guilt overcame her as she thought of Ari, wounded, sick, lying in the Healing Chambers alone.

She sighed heavily, resolving not to dwell on the bad this night; she wanted to dwell on all the happy possibilities for her future.

She weaved through the men, saying hello to some, stopping to chat with others. She finished talking to Hadsufeld, one of Eomer's men, and found herself drifting towards the doors, stepping out into the fresh air, under the night sky. She stood outside, the cool air calming her frazzled nerves as her overworked mind figured out exactly what the dance meant. Eomer cared for her, she was sure of it now. How could it not be so? He had sat with her for days as she battled her fever, he had watched over her that day in Isenguard, and he watched over her now, careful of the things he said and did, fumbling over himself almost. He must care for her.

The thought brought a smile to her face and she leaned happily against the guard wall of the Meduseld, wondering what her newfound knowledge would bring her. She was not prepared for the terrible side of its gifts and certainly did not expect them so soon, if at all.

Sheatha, her next in command, appeared next to her then, a grim look to her face.

"Milady, may I speak freely?"

Lothiriel jumped a bit, having been lost in thought so deep that she did not hear Sheatha's footsteps.

"Anything you have to say, Sheatha, may be spoken freely." She replied, her voice dreamily far away.

Sheatha nodded, but shifted on her feet nervously instead of speaking right away. Lothiriel waited a moment or two before turning to her friend.

"Is something wrong?"

"No, I don't think so, I mean…" She hung her head.

Lothiriel sighed and waited for Sheatha to continue. She did after another moment or two.

"Milady, do you really think it wise to openly flirt with the future King of Rohan?"

Lothiriel stood back and blinked, almost as if she couldn't believe her ears. Sheatha took advantage of her silence and continued.

"These people will not accept you, Lothiriel; they are looking for a princess to marry their prince. Do you really think that the Rohan people will rejoice at your choice in their most beloved son?"

Lothiriel finally got a grip on her thoughts and tongue.

"You dare speak to me in such a manner?" she asked, outraged, not at the tone of Sheatha's voice, but at the words that she was speaking.

"I do when it is best for my country. You must return to the Barazinbar with us, with your troops, your queen, you cannot abandon us for this horse-master."

Lothiriel blinked again, disbelief clouding her mind as she realized that Sheatha was angry, feeling betrayed. She had no reason to feel so, but she was right. It wasn't fair to abandon her people, especially not with Arianna so sick, but what would happen when she got better? When the war was over?

"Milady, I do not wish to hurt you, but you will not be accepted here, Rohan will not want you as their queen."

"Eomer…" her heart protested.

"No, Eomer will not want you for his queen either; he will marry someone more worthy." Sheatha was angry now, outrage in her voice.

"I want to stay." She felt like a child. A stupid, stupid child. She did want to stay, she wanted to stay by Eomer's side and hopefully, eventually become his wife. She cared for him; she had only realized it now, why was Sheatha behaving this way?

"You cannot stay, if you do, he will soon tire of you, and what then? Return to the Barazinbar, disgraced and ashamed? If you stay, you will be unhappy, and soon fade from memory. Who will remember you, if you stay?" Sheatha questioned, hitting on the nerve of all Lady Riders. They were never remembered, never seen.

Anger flooded Lothiriel's veins and she lashed out.

"History will remember me!"

"History remembers Kings, not soldiers. Not silly little girls who fill their heads with dreams that will never come true." Sheatha bit out.

Hot, angry, ashamed tears poured over Lothiriel's cheeks and she tried to keep them at bay, but it wasn't working.

"He does not love you, milady, you are not of his world." With that, Sheatha departed, angry, the ruby eyes of the sleek panther on her armor glinting in the moonlight, almost a final taunt to the general left outside.

Lothiriel stood by the breaking wall, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, avoiding the wound in her side, as her entire body shook. She knew that Sheatha was right, that it was silly to believe that she and Eomer had any sort of future together. After all, even if she was worthy to marry him, they still had many battles ahead of them; he might not make it out alive. She might not make it out alive. And Sheatha knew what she was talking about; Eomer was the son of Kings, she was nothing more than a soldier, a maid to a dying queen.

"Lothiriel?"

His voice brought her out of her reverie, but her cheeks were still stained with tears, and her body still shook. She turned to look at him, and he was smiling before he reached her side and noticed the state she was in. His gentle eyes became worried as his smile turned to a frown.

"Milady?" he questioned softly. She closed her eyes and turned her head away, not wanting to see him now.

"Milady, what is wrong?" his hand reached out for her arm and at the feeling of his warm touch she pulled away, stepped closer to the wall.

"Nothing is wrong, my lord."

He blinked at that; she had just started to call him Eomer, and he rather liked the sound of his name on her tongue. He was disappointed that she had fallen on formalities now.

"Lothiriel, forgive me, but it has been my experience that when a lady cries, it is not for nothing."

She smiled at that. He truly did care for her, and even though it warmed her insides, it also broke her heart.

"My lord, I will be fine, I promise you." She turned to him and smiled. He seemed eased by that and smiled back at her, his entire face lighting up as he took a step closer. She resisted the urge to step back, not wanting to hurt his feelings.

"Milady, I have something I wish I could tell you."

She swallowed hard, somehow knowing what was to come.

"Y…y…you do?"

He nodded; his head down as he rubbed the back of his neck in a nervous fashion. Eothain had convinced him to reveal this to her and he was terrified. He wanted to run, he wanted to turn away and run. It wasn't generally in his nature to run away, but this was a very large exception, he had never been very good at revealing feelings to anyone.

"Milady, I…Lothiriel, I…" he winced as the words came out wrong and continued to rub the back of his neck. He opened his mouth a second time but shut it quickly, obviously frustrated with his lack of eloquence.

"Oh what I wouldn't give for a poet's tongue!" his frustration boiled over, and Lothiriel watched him warily.

"What use does a warrior have for a poet's tongue?" it held an element of teasing and he smiled gently at her.

"He would have a use for it, milady, when he tries to tell a beautiful woman how he feels."

She swallowed again, her cheeks turning pink, her trembling hands fighting to find something to anchor herself to, and upon finding no solid object close, latched instead onto one of the folds of her gown.

"Eomer, I…"she didn't know what to say. In all the years of her life she had never run out of things to say. This was a first.

"Lothiriel, I care deeply for you. That day on the battle field at Helm's Deep seeing you fight so hard for your queen, and then seeing you fall." He paused, the memory causing him pain, "I thought I had lost you, and in doing so, lost my heart as well."

She stared up at him, nothing but genuine emotion in his eyes and she started to cry once more, her tears no longer angry.

"It was you."

He looked quizzical.

"What?"

"It was you who plucked me out of the battlefield, wasn't it?"

He nodded; his cheeks stinging with embarrassment. She smiled through her tears and when he saw her smile, he relaxed.

"I imagine this is not easy for you, but I do wish you would say something." He told her and she paused, biting her lower lip as she thought carefully. She knew that she could not tell him of her feelings, for they could not be.

"Eomer, I…"she stopped, her heart breaking as she thought of what she would have to say, and the damage it would cause.

"I care for you as well…"she wanted to add something to it, but didn't know what. She did care for him that was no lie. He smiled at her, mistaking her words for their true meaning and took another step forward. She looked up at him, wondering what he was doing and at the same time wishing that she could tell him the truth, let them believe it together, at least for a little while. Then his lips descended gently onto hers and she gasped, having not expected that in her wildest dreams.

His strong, sturdy hands gripped her hips gently, her hands coming to rest upon his forearms as their lips and tongues dueled. Lothiriel forgot herself in the warmth of him for a moment until their reality came crashing back to her in an unmitigated tour de force.

She broke their lips apart, stepping back with a strangled gasp as her back hit the guard wall and set her wound to fire.

"Eomer, I…"

His face was as flushed as hers and his eyes were wide with shock.

"Forgive me, milady, I should not have done that."

She touched a gentle hand to her lips and stared at him, knowing now what her mistake had been.

"Eomer, I do care for you, but it cannot be."

His eyes narrowed, his brow furrowed.

"What do you mean?"

"Eomer, you and I are of different worlds, you are a prince, a future King of Rohan. I am nothing more than a soldier."

He stared at her, barely believing what it was that he was hearing.

"Lothiriel, I love you."

She burst into tears once more.

"I know. I cannot return your feelings. I must leave with my people and my queen when this war is over. I cannot stay."

He took a step towards her, pleading.

"Lothiriel, you do care for me, yes?"

"Yes." She nodded.

"And I for you; forget what anyone else says. Forget that you are a soldier and that I am the future King. I love you, Lothiriel, and I want you to be my queen."

She shook her head as she stepped to the side, looking for a way out.

"Eomer, I cannot be your queen, I cannot stay. I love you, but it would be best if we forgot our feelings."

He looked hurt and confused. He reached for her, but she stepped back again.

"We cannot be, please try to understand." She knew that she should say something else, but was saved from thinking something when a shout was heard from deep inside the Hall.

"Help! Gandalf, help!"

"Merry?" questioned Lothiriel as she heard the commotion and ran towards the shouting, Eomer on her heels, meeting up with Aragorn and Legolas who looked just as bewildered as she felt. They burst into the room to see Pippin writhing on the floor, the palantir flaming orange in his hands, a silent scream on his lips. Aragorn reached for the object, pulled it off of Pippin, but it hurt him just as badly and he collapsed, Legolas reaching for him. Gandalf went to take care of the Palantir and Lothiriel fell to her knees next to Pippin, her hands closing around his cheeks, his eyes wide open but not seeing.

"Pip? Pippin, come on, look at me, love. Pippin?" she tried to get him to wake, to look at her and actually see her, but he didn't move. Gandalf took her shoulder and pulled her away, kneeling next to Pippin and touching his forehead to the young Hobbit's. Lothiriel and Merry watched together in fear, Aragorn, Legolas, and Eomer watching from the shadows. Lothiriel turned to the future King of Men as he sat on the floor, holding his head. She kneeled next to him.

"Aragorn, are you all right?" she asked him, looking at his hands. They were red, but not burned terribly.

"A headache, my lady, nothing more." He whispered and although she didn't believe him, she knew that none of his injuries were physical and so she left him alone, turning to watch as Gandalf questioned Pippin. He was terrified, but otherwise uninjured.

Lothiriel smiled down at Merry as he looked to her for reassurance and when he looked away she turned her blue gaze to Eomer, her heart breaking and the thoughts running through her mind racing a million miles a minute. How could she offer comfort to others when her own life was in such a tumult? Eomer felt her gaze and looked at her. She looked away quickly, wondering if she would ever be able to stomach his gaze again.


	10. Gondor Calls for Aid

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Lothiriel stood upon the edge of the breaking wall, watching as Pippin and Gandalf rode away together on Shadowfax, headed towards the White City of Gondor to warn its Steward of the impending doom. Her blood boiled in her veins as she thought back on the last few hours. Gandalf and King Théoden, along with Aragorn, Gimli, Legolas, and even Pip and Merry had decided the course of action to take, forgetting conveniently that she should have a say as well.

Sometimes she hated being a woman.

"Lady Lothiriel?"

Lothiriel spun on her heel to watch as Eowyn came out of the shadows of the Great Hall, her golden hair catching the sun in the most beautiful way.

"Lady Eowyn." Lothiriel caught onto the formalities.

Eowyn gave her a thin lipped smile.

"Have you no empathy for the feelings of others?"

Lothiriel was stunned at the hostility in the princess's voice.

"My lady?"

"My brother is distraught, inconsolable, even though he does not cry."

Lothiriel nodded, understanding.

"Eowyn, your brother and I…I do care for him, please understand that."

"But you do not love him?"

Lothiriel turned back towards the great expanse of green hills before her, contemplating her answer.

"I do love him, but it is not my station to do so. Can you forget so easily, Lady Eowyn, what your brother is to now become? After Prince Theodred's passing he became the next in line to become king. I am nothing more than a general of an army of a dying queen. I am not worthy of your country's beloved son."

Eowyn scoffed at that, sounding scandalized.

"That is not for you to decide, should not my brother have a say in it? He loves you, my lady, I have seen it in his eyes, his smile, he sat beside your bed while you battled the fever, he neither ate nor slept, he thought he'd lose you. And now he has, and it breaks my heart to see him so, does that bother you to hear?" she questioned as Lothiriel blanched.

"Of course it does," the general spun on her heel, tears veiling her blue eyes, "I love your brother, and I do not wish him pain, but it cannot be. I cannot stay here. This is not my home, these are not my people, and I have an obligation to my queen, to my troops, to the memory of my family. I am a soldier, not a princess, not a steward or noble's daughter, my parents were farmers, soldiers, I am not worthy of your brother's love. Another time, another place, but not here, not now."

Eowyn straightened considerably, a fiery rage in her eyes.

"You would break his heart, for duty?"

"I would die for duty, my lady. I took an oath before my queen and God that I would serve my country and my Lady before all others. I will keep that oath as a truth in this world, as I will keep my love for your brother as a truth in my own heart."

With that said, Lothiriel started down the large stone steps that would lead her to the stables and her beloved steed, and a much needed ride to escape. She ignored Eowyn's stare piercing her shoulders.

"Good morning, lady." Nodded Resulde, the keeper of the horses.

"Good morning." Lothiriel nodded as she entered the stables and started to dress Breiseius in his saddle and bridle. Breiseius stood patiently as he was dressed and then waited as Lothiriel swung herself up onto his back, glad to be back in her tunic and leggings.

"Come along, dear heart; let us escape this place, at least for a little while." She dug her heels in and Breiseius took off, bursting through the doors of the stables like a streak from a comet, exploding into the light of day once more, running proudly. Lothiriel ignored the stares of the men, women and children of Rohan as she escaped their city and started out across the green hills that she admired. The wind whipped through her loose hair, the sun beat on her face and back, and Breiseius ran fluidly beneath her. All her worries, all her cares, her tears, her fears, her love and her hate were left behind as the freedom of her ride overtook her.

She halted Breiseius upon one of the far hills, and she looked out along the east, a dark shadow growing on the very edge of where her vision could reach. The sight struck fear into her heart, and she trembled upon her horse, praying with all her soul that the war they were about to fight would come out in their favor. She was glad that she would not be riding into war alone, but she felt more alone than she ever had. Her queen was dying, her troops scattered, order forgotten, and Eomer…his heart had closed off to her, and she knew that she must now close her heart off to him. If she was to concentrate in this war and be able to manage her newly acquired troops, then she must keep both her heart and head clear.

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"Lady Lothiriel?"

Lothiriel ignored the question of her name as she swept up the steps of the Great Hall, her heart pounding in perfect rhythm with her steps.

"I must speak with Théoden King."

The men guarding the door looked at her for a moment or two before stepping aside and opening the door for her. She stepped over the threshold and her heart skipped a beat as she saw Eomer's drawn face, he looked as sad as Eowyn had described him and it sent a shot of pain and regret into her heart, but she ignored it, there were more pressing matters.

"My lord, I must speak with you."

Théoden looked over his shoulder at her, but did not speak, instead he turned back towards the men he had been speaking with before and Lothiriel bristled at the ignorance.

"Whether or not you will look at me will not stay my tongue, my lord, I have something to say and you will listen to me, I may not be a queen, but I am to take charge in my own queen's absence, therefore you will listen to me as you have once listened to her."

Théoden spun to look at her as the room stilled. Lothiriel stood before him, her back straight, her eyes sparking, she would not back down now, she had a duty to fulfill.

"You would speak to the King in such a manner?" Hama questioned. Lothiriel ignored him, her eyes locked on Théoden's face, awaiting his response.

"What is it you wish to say, my lady?"

"The shadow of the east grows larger, Gondor will need our help."

Théoden didn't even blink; he seemed bored with the situation.

"Yes, milady, we know this."

The men seemed amused, and Lothiriel bristled once more, glad she did not carry her sword, because she was unsure as to what she would have done in that moment if she had a weapon.

'Well, then perhaps you will do something about it." It was a challenge and the air of the room thickened.

"A challenge, my lady?"

"Yes, you preach to be a great king of men, and if you were you would not falter now."

A gasp resounded through the room at the woman who had the audacity to speak to a King in such a manner.

"You have a very sharp tongue, Lady Lothiriel; it may get you into trouble some day."

She nodded, a small smile gracing her features.

"Perhaps it will, but I feel that it is not this day."

Théoden looked at her for a long, uncomfortable moment, then, he laughed.

A shout echoed outside the doors and then Aragorn burst through the wood, his eyes wild with excitement and passion.

"The beacons of Minis Tirith!" he shouted as he ran across the stone floor, the entire hall being blanketed in silence as he reached King Théoden, "The beacons are lit! Gondor calls for aid."

The air seemed thick and unnaturally still. Every breath of every person in the hall was held as Théoden King looked at Aragorn as though he'd spoken another language that was beyond his own Kingly comprehension.

Lothiriel smiled as her heart constricted painfully. She had challenged the good King of Rohan, but the question was, would he rise to her call? He glanced at her slightly, if only for a moment, his hazel-green eyes locking with her pure blue ones and she gave him an imperceptible nod. He winked at her before looking back at Aragorn.

"And Rohan will answer. Muster the Rohhirim!" he shouted into the silence of the hall and Lothiriel watched as Eomer nodded, turning back, setting a gentle hand on his sister Eowyn's shoulder. For her part, Eowyn looked properly terrified. She knew what all of this meant. Open war in which the men that she loved might never come back from.

Lothiriel felt her heart constrict once more as Eomer turned his back on her, never once looking over his shoulder; they were square, and his walk held purpose. Dear God she'd been a fool to let him go; she knew that, but her head reminded her that this was no time to be worried about matters of the heart. This was war.

"I offer my troops." She turned to the king, who merely smiled at her.

"I had expected as much, dear lady, but I must question as to whether it is your call?"

She looked at him quizzically and bristled a bit with indignation.

"It is my duty in my queen's absence, my lord."

He smiled softly at her, his eyes warm and sweet. Lothiriel had the mildly ridiculous thought that if she weren't merely a soldier and he weren't a king, that they would have been great friends.

"She woke this morning while you were away."

A floodgate of emotion welled into Lothiriel's chest until she was sure her heart would burst from the pure weight of it. She took a shocked breath and stepped back as if the news had knocked her over.

"She did? Why wasn't I told?" she demanded, a little outraged. Théoden King chuckled.

"Because, dear lady, you came in with a challenge, and gave me no room to impart such wonderful news."

A slight blush tinged her cheeks as she bowed before the king and took her leave, running down the halls until she reached the Healing Chambers. She burst through the doors, walking straight to her friend. Arianna was sitting up, leaning heavily against the post of her bed, sipping from a mug. Lothiriel noticed the bitter smell of the tea that she herself had been made to drink and violently pushed away the memories that it evoked.

"My lady," she barely whispered, stopping at the foot of the bed, a little fearful now. Arianna slowly lowered her mug and shook her hair back, looking up at Lothiriel with a fondness in her sunken eyes. Lothiriel gasped, too shocked for words, or to look away, which was what she truly wanted to do.

Arianna looked like death, her face pale, bruised even still, but shockingly beautiful. She looked like Lothiriel had imagined the soldiers in the Dead Marshes. She'd been told such stories about them when she was a child, and it was as if her imagination for those noble dead had been brought to life in Arianna's features. She was cold, and fantastically frightening to look upon.

"Ari?" Lothiriel croaked, her voice getting away from her. Arianna smiled and it brought some warmth back to her face.

"Lothiriel." She managed, sounding as regal as ever, if not tired.

"I thought I'd never see you again," Lothiriel murmured as she bent down to kneel at her lady's side and took her cold hand in her own. Arianna gripped her first general's hand as tightly as her weakened state would allow her and spoke again.

"I want you to lead the troops in my stead, Lothiriel, I have heard talk of the threat growing."

"Gondor has called for our aid my lady," was the reply and Arianna nodded.

"I had feared and anticipated that, but I'm afraid that I am far too weak to fight."

"We leave today, Ari."

"Then you must lead. Strong, swift, and terrible you must take over this shadow with all the goodness that we are."

Lothiriel could feel her throat tighten, knowing very well that this could be the last time she saw her best friend.

"Yes my Queen." She bowed her head in respect and Arianna mustered up the strength to kiss the crown of her hair softly.

"I will ride with you."

Lothiriel's head snapped up and she shook it vehemently.

"No, you are too weak to stand."

"Yes, but not to sit, I can ride with you, I should see my troops off to battle. I should fight with them, but I am too weak."

"My lady, please…"

"I will send you off, now go and ready my horse and your troops, dear Lothiriel and try not to be afraid."

Lothiriel blinked, once, twice, but did not dare refuse a direct order from her sovereign and nodded, standing, and heading out of the chamber, her mind spinning a thousand miles a second. In fact, she was so frazzled that she didn't notice the man coming down the hall and bumped right into him. Strong hands reached out, settling softly at her mid-back and held her upright until she regained her footing.

"Forgive me I…" she looked up and her voice was stolen. Eomer had captured her, and quite suddenly she was acutely aware of where his hands were and how they were so warm that it practically scorched her flesh through her black tunic. There was a soft sadness to his eyes as he released her and although his hands had taken back up their residence at his sides, Lothiriel's flesh still burned as though he'd never moved them.

"Careful, dear lady, you mustn't injure yourself."

She nodded, wanting so badly to smile at him, but knowing that it wasn't right to do so.

"Of course, thank you, my lord, and do please forgive me, Ari has just woken and I am a bit…preoccupied."

He nodded, his face brightening for a moment that Arianna was all right.

"I am happy that your queen is in better health." He told her, sounding impossibly polite and Lothiriel suddenly wished that he would yell at her, scream, do something other than be so wonderfully polite and sweet to her.

"Thank you, I am wonderfully relieved and I'm sure the rest of the troops will be as well."

He smiled slightly; looking very much like he wanted to ask her something and he hesitated before opening his mouth.

"How are you?" he asked her, his voice trembling slightly.

"I am very well, my lord," she replied, a little curious as to the question. Hadn't she told him that it wasn't their business to wonder if the other was all right? Or perhaps he was really just concerned as a friend, a fellow soldier, or whatever else he might be to her in this most strange of situations. Perhaps she was overreacting.

He visibly flinched at her formal address but otherwise ignored it. Lothiriel felt horrible now, her stomach wrenching. She had spoken to him formally just a few moments ago but did not realize how that made him feel. How seeing her must make him feel; although now that she thought about it she was pretty certain that she could guess at least somewhere close to how he was feeling. Because she knew that all she wanted to do was to wrap her arms around him and inhale the scent of his leather armor, his chainmail, the manly, earthly aroma that was all him. She wanted to kiss him; she wanted to tell him that she loved him. It broke her heart to see him and to know that she could never do those things.

"Why did you not come to speak to me in the Hall?" he asked, and Lothiriel winced, now knowing that he had seen her. She had been engaged talking to his uncle, but, she supposed she could have at least sent him a greeting. It was odd, though, that he would bring that up now. It seemed so odd, and yet, just maybe, he was unsure as to her feelings towards him.

"I did not wish to disturb you, as you seemed engaged, my lord." It was a lie, and they both knew it, but they also both ignored it.

"What have you been doing, as of late?" he asked, looking almost nervous, but not quite, as though he were at war with the emotion. It seemed an odd question to her but she answered it anyway.

"Nothing particular, my lord, taking care of my queen."

He nodded.

"And looking just as sick yourself, what is the matter?"

She looked a bit surprised at his summation of how she looked but shook it off, knowing that it was no longer her place to tell him how she truly felt about things.

"Nothing at all, my lord, I am quite content." It was a lie.

"Are you certain you did not obtain any sickness from our Healing Chambers?"

"Yes, I feel just fine."

He nodded.

"If you are certain."

"Yes, I suppose I am just a bit tired, my lord."

He looked at her for a moment and the slightest bit of hope and worry entered his eyes, rendering Lothiriel a helpless participant in the conversation that she had just intended to end.

"And a little sad," he said. "What about? I beg you to tell me, my lady."

"Nothing, I am fine, my lord."

"Of course, if you say it is so then it must be," he looked unsure even as he said it, "I suppose I will leave you now to ready my troops."

She nodded, "Of course."

He passed her in the hall and then turned back.

"Lothiriel, I know that you wished this subject closed, but I fear that I cannot let it rest yet."

She turned to look at him and upon looking into his eyes wished reverently that she would be struck blind.

"Oh?" was all she could manage in a response and he nodded, stepping close again.

"I love you, Lothiriel, and I do not wish to pretend that I don't."

She fought the urge to break down into tears and shook her head.

"No my lord, you must forget. You simply must."

"What are you talking about? Why?" he questioned her, and she sighed deeply, knowing that what she had to say would pain her heart greatly.

"You will live on in Rohan, become King someday, and when you do you will find a wife, of this I am certain and you will you marry the woman of your choice, the people will love her, and you will rule as a wonderful King for decades to come. I will go back to the Barazinbar, continue to fight in the Lady Riders, continue to aid my queen, I will never marry, my lord, and as you laugh in these great halls with your family, I will be alone in the Barazinbar. You will forget me, long before I forget you."

He stared at her for a long, heated moment, and she stared equally back, certain that what she was saying was the truth of their unstoppable futures.

"I will never forget you, Lothiriel." He gripped her hands in his own and Lothiriel felt the smallest of whimpers rise in her throat at the contact.

"You mustn't say such things, my lord."

He pulled her closer, their arms the only thing separating them from full body contact. He bent down and brushed the softest of kisses to her lips. She didn't move forward but she also didn't move back. He took that as a slight encouragement and swept another kiss to her jaw, then to the curve of the neck.

"Lothiriel…" he trailed off, unsure as to what he had been attempting to say and Lothiriel almost collapsed on the spot. Everything about his touch felt absolutely wonderful.

Her logic took back over and she pushed against his chest, hard. He took several steps back and dropped her hands.

"No, no my lord. I have nothing to offer you, and I would only cause you pain. I will ride into battle with you in these terrifying times, but when they are over I will flee."

He looked wounded and took a step closer to her, looking very much like he wanted to reach out to her. He didn't.

"My lady…"

"I have nothing, Eomer; don't waste your time on me, for I shan't be wasting mine on you."

It was unnecessarily cruel, but she needed him to understand that they could not be, that they would never last like she knew they both wanted them to. Why? Because he was the Crown Prince now and she…she was a soldier. She needed him to forget his feelings before either of them were hurt anymore deeply.

He looked very much as though he were torn between crumpling into tears and extreme violence.

"Of course, dear lady, as you wish." He turned sharply on his heel and left her alone in the hall, her heart shattering as her guilt washed over her in waves.

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Lothiriel sat atop Breiseius and swallowed the lump in her throat, she had managed to go through the motions of getting ready and rounding her troops before going back to her queen. Eothain had even been so wonderful as to lift Ari out of bed and secretly bring her to the stables and placed her upon her horse so that no one was any the wiser to how weak she really was. Lothiriel would ride by her side the entire way to make sure that she did not fall.

"Lothiriel?" Arianna questioned as she sat beside her brooding friend.

"Yes, my lady?" Lothiriel replied, looking over at the redheaded beauty.

"You seem troubled."

Lothiriel shrugged.

"I am merely thinking strategy, dear Queen."

It was a lie and Arianna knew that, Lothiriel's eyes sparkled when she thought strategy; she loved the planning stages of war. But it was let go for now as Eomer's strong voice boomed across the hillsides.

"Riders of Rohan, oaths you have taken! Now, fulfill them all, to Lord and land!"

The entire company charged forward, the Lady Riders situated directly in the middle. Arianna watched Lothiriel's reaction to Eomer's voice and decided that when they reached camp, or the next time that they stopped, she was going to speak to her friend and general about what had been going on while she was sleeping.

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Phew! Another chapter up and a nice and long one. I know it's a bit angsty, but it was due, some things can't be resolved so quickly. He loves her, she loves him, and he's trying to get her to admit to it and to be with him. She's resisting. Ugh, sometimes your characters put you in places you didn't expect.

Please read and review, let me know how I'm doing.

*******SPOILER ALERT SENSITIVE INFO ABOUT THE ENDING************

Also, question, do we want some chapters at the end of Lothiriel and Eomer's life together as King and Queen? Or no?

~Andrew's Slinky

Also I know the spoiler is probably weird since this is under the Lothiriel/Eomer pairing in romance and you kinda expect that they'll end up together, but hey, you never know. So I just thought I'd give the heads up to people.


	11. Blessings

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Queen Arianna of the Barazinbar may have been asleep for the past few weeks, but she wasn't stupid. She saw the glances traded between her favorite friend and the Third Marshall of the Riddermark. She knew what they meant, for she had seen them in her court before.

The two of them were in love.

She was unsure as to how to feel about this. The part of her that was Lothiriel's best friend and closest confidant rejoiced for the happiness that love would bring her friend. The part of her that was a queen viewing her subject was less elated. For she knew that if the two of them were to act upon their feelings it would be a difficult if not completely impossible road for them; for Lothiriel was a foot soldier, not of a high station, and Eomer, with the passing of his cousin Theodred, was now the future king of Rohan, as long as he stayed in his uncle's favor.

"My lady, are you feeling well?" Lothiriel's gentle voice broke her thoughts and Arianna shook her head, glancing over at her raven-haired friend.

"I feel fine, dear Lothiriel, do not fret; my wounds have not caught up to me yet."

Her general looked uncertain, and more than a little bit afraid but let it go, left to wonder what it was that had occupied her beloved friend's thoughts for most of their journey.

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"Does something trouble you, Eomer?" Théoden questioned his nephew, as the younger man looked over his shoulder for what seemed the thousandth time since they had departed from Edoras.

"Nothing, my King, I am merely watching over our riders."

Théoden nodded, smiling to himself; his nephew never had been a good liar. He watched Eomer's eye line as he glanced over his shoulder once more and his smile became privy to all as he discovered that Eomer's hazel-green gaze had landed on the Lady Lothiriel.

Again.

His nephew certainly was an easy man to read.

"You know if you keep looking at her like that you're going to fall off of Firefoot," the King teased in turn, and Eomer's head snapped back with frightening speed. He looked abashed, having been caught spying on Lothiriel.

"Do you care for her?" Théoden questioned none too innocently. Eomer looked away, swallowing hard. He dare not tell his true feelings, but he dare not lie about them either. So instead he chose to say nothing, which was an admittance of sorts. Théoden laughed heartily and even went so far as to reach over and clap his nephew on the shoulder.

"She is a lovely creature."

Eomer nodded, a light blush tingeing his cheeks. He agreed most ardently; she was a lovely creature, but not one that he could seem to grasp any tighter than he could smoke.

"Yes, she is."

"Have you told her this?" Théoden knew that his nephew did not have the ability to charm women the same way his son had. Eomer looked upset at this question.

"Yes, I have told her, several times."

Théoden glanced from Eomer's troubled features to Lothiriel, who was conversing with her queen.

"Did she reject you?" he asked, Eomer gave him a soft glance but did not confirm nor deny it for a long, slightly heated moment. It seemed an odd place to have this conversation, in the lines of his army, but when a king asked you a question, you answered it; and besides, it wasn't as if most of if not all of his men already knew of his love for the dark-haired beauty.

"She told me that she loved me, but that it would be best to ignore our feelings."

Théoden said nothing, simply waiting for Eomer to continue.

"She said that it was impossible, for she is a soldier and now I am in line for a throne. I tried to convince her otherwise, but she would not listen. She says that duty to her country comes first."

Théoden nodded, glancing back at Lothiriel, who was looking back; their eyes caught, just for a moment, but in that moment, he caught every emotion she had attempted to hide from them all in the past few months that they had known her. Fear, sadness, anger, and a deep exhaustion. She was a beautiful, if sad, lady, fierce and stubborn when needed, but submissive to her queen, to those above her in station. She had a charm for her troops, and those of Rohan, she was loyal, perhaps to a fault. She was everything that a queen should be. Everything that the Queens of Rohan had been. His nephew, his heir, could not have made a better choice.

"Perhaps, if I speak with her, she will understand."

Eomer looked hopeful, his eyes lighting up in a way that no one had seen since he was a small child.

"Uncle, I…" the light went out, "I do not wish for her to feel trapped. If it is her wish that I silence my heart, then my heart I shall silence."

Théoden clapped him on the back once more and sighed heavily.

"If that is what you wish," he replied, knowing full well that at the next opportunity, he was going to speak to the woman who had captured his nephew's heart, and hopefully set her straight on who was accepted as a queen of Rohan.

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"Lothiriel?" Arianna stood next to her friend, as the riders stopped to breath for a moment. Lothiriel turned to face her, gently patting Breiseius' cheek. The horse whinnied, and took a step closer to his mistress.

"Yes, my queen?"

"Walk with me, if you would?" Arianna asked gently, offering her arm, more for Lothiriel to prop her up than anything else. Lothiriel took her arm gently and together they broke away from the lines, looking very out of place together. Lothiriel in her riding tunic and leggings, and Arianna in her gown, looking very much the Queen, knowing now that there was no possibility for her to ride out to battle with her troops. Lothiriel would have to lead them in her stead.

They did not notice the men that Eomer sent to watch over them, their eyes sharp beneath their blonde hair.

"Is there something you wished to tell me, Ari?" Lothiriel dropped formalities now that they were alone.

"More something I wish I could ask."

"Anything, Ari, you know that."

Arianna bowed her head for a moment, her auburn curls tickling her cheeks. She looked a tad bit healthier in the sunlight, and she felt a bit better too.

"I wished to ask you about you and Eomer, Lothiriel," Lothiriel's grip on her arm tightened, "I wished to ask you exactly what had been happening while I was ill?"

"My lady, I…Eomer and I…" Lothiriel stuttered but Arianna waited in silence, not aiding her friend in what it was she wished to hear.

"I love him, my lady, and he loves me."

Arianna felt her heart constrict. The two sides of her at war over what to feel.

"Oh? A wedding, then, when this war has ended?"

Lothiriel blushed furiously but shook her head.

"No, dear friend, no, for I told him what I know to be true. Our love is doomed, and so I shall return to the Barazinbar with you, and the Lady Riders. It is what is best for all."

Ari gently patted her friend's hand and sighed the sigh of the long suffering.

"What about what is best for you?" sometimes she hated that her best friend side was what won out when it came to Lothiriel.

"My lady, you know as well as I that a soldier never thinks what is best for her, she thinks of what is best for the many. And my returning to the Barazinbar and my post as your general is what is best for the many."

She seemed certain, if a little sad, and Arianna nodded her head.

"I understand what you are saying, dear friend, but I have to wonder if it is more for self-preservation than for duty."

"My lady?" Lothiriel was confused now; uncertain as to what exactly it was that her queen was attempting to tell her.

"I just wish for you to know, dear Lothiriel, that I wish you happiness of the acutest kind."

"I do not understand, Ari."

Arianna stopped walking, effectively halting Lothiriel alongside her; they were far away from the halted lines now.

"I want you to know, and to understand, Lothiriel, that if being with Eomer is what makes you happy, then that is what I want for you, as a friend and as a queen."

Lothiriel looked as though she had just been struck.

"You do?"

"Yes, of course I do. If you love him, then love him, and take no stock in the feelings of others. I give you my blessing, Lothiriel to do as you wish."

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Eomer watched as Arianna led Lothiriel away from the halted lines and he felt a spasm of fear erupt in his chest. They were in dangerous territory this far away from the city, and while he knew that Lothiriel was a wonderful and loyal soldier, he also knew just how badly injured Queen Arianna was; and he didn't want anything to happen to them.

"Eothain!" he called over his shoulder. His best friend appeared next to him in a matter of seconds.

"Yes, my lord?" he asked, sounding slightly amused as he caught a glimpse of the two women that had caught his leader's eye.

"Send scouts to watch over them, will you? These are dangerous lands in dangerous times."

Eothain bowed slightly; a wry smile still planted firmly on his lips.

"Of course, Eomer," he left to do exactly what was asked of him, whistling the entire way. He had always been a bit of a romantic himself, and he felt, somewhere deep in his heart that the tides were about to change, for all of them.

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Arianna and Lothiriel returned to their steeds just in time to regain their place atop them and rejoin their ranks. Each calling an order or two to keep the lines and move out, following the cues of the Riders of Rohan before them.

Lothiriel rode with a lighter heart, knowing that Arianna was behind her in her love for Eomer did not change her mind about returning to her homeland when the time came, but simply knowing that her friend was with her, that she understood, did much to lighten the load that she was carrying on her shoulders, and in turn made what was to come next much easier to bear. Whatever it may be.

Breiseius suddenly reared, skittish and uncomfortable. Lothiriel attempted to keep control of him, tugging on the reins, calling to him in the Common Tongue and the language of her people. Neither soothed him. The ranks surrounding her suddenly scattered, giving her and her seemingly mad horse some room. The large company of riders halted, all looking as Lothiriel kept attempting to regain control of her beloved stallion.

"Breiseius, please!" she called, turning him, running him in circles, begging for relief, hoping beyond all hope that he would wear himself out before he hurt her, someone else, or even worse, himself.

"Breiseius!" she directed him the other way, and he faltered for a moment before ignoring any command she had given him and taking off at a full gallop, towards the hills that separated them from the evil that was invading.

Lothiriel gave up on trying controlling her stallion and instead concentrated on merely staying atop him. He was going far too fast for her to dismount safely. She heard the heavy tell of galloping behind her, the hooves of someone else's steed attempting to catch her.

Lothiriel felt her heart beat faster and faster and faster, threatening to break her chest. She had never been fearful around horses, and certainly never Breiseius. She had raised him from a colt, but knowing that she wasn't the one to startle him into madness wasn't a relief.

She tugged the reins, hard, managing to turn him back towards the lines. She caught a glimpse of her pursuer. Lord Aragorn. She flashed him a triumphant grin before turning Breiseius once again in a mastery of control. Then she jerked backwards, hard on the reins and Breiseius, like he had all the long years that she had been his mistress, slowed down to a canter, then a walk and finally, stopped completely. Whinnying as though she had stopped a great game.

She dismounted in a great show of anger and jerked down on Breiseius' bridle, bringing his nose close to her own.

"What is wrong with you, you mad beast?" she questioned him softly, but sternly, and he responded with a shifting of his weight.

She stroked his noble nose and spoke to him in the tongue of her own people, a slightly rough tongue that sounded appropriately barbaric to match the fire in her eyes and the strength in her stance. Breiseius visibly calmed and Lothiriel slowly led him back to the lines of soldiers awaiting her return.

"Forgive me," she called out to them, "I fear dear Breiseius has had enough of war."

She stroked his cheek this time, and he nudged her gently, the madness gone, and the easiness of a controlled animal returning. She faced him, sending him an almost warning glance before swinging back atop him and glancing towards King Théoden, who gave her a soft nod.

"Are you all right, Lady Lothiriel?" Aragorn questioned as he came to ride next to her. She looked over at him and smiled softly.

"Yes, I am fine; Breiseius has never run away like that before."

Aragorn gave her steed a glance and cocked his head to the side like he so often did.

"He is a strong and noble creature, but perhaps a bit frightened. Does he pick it up from you, my lady?"

She shook her head.

"No, my lord, I have no idea what it was that frightened him, and I hope never to see it. He has ridden into battle with me more times than I can count, and never has he reacted to a foe like that."

Aragorn nodded, sending her a glance once more before returning to his place beside Théoden King and Eomer. Lothiriel watched him go, feeling more than a little bit foolish that she had allowed her steed to run away like that.

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Finally, they reached the camp situated directly against a sheer rock face, and atop it. Lothiriel watched her surroundings closely, feeling a shiver wrack her spine and Breiseius grow restless beneath her. She leaned forward gently to speak to him, patting his strong neck and soothing him to the best of her ability. Eomer appeared next to her.

"Is something wrong, milady?" he questioned her softly, and she resisted the urge to smile merely at the sound of his voice.

"No, my lord, it seems Breiseius has gotten his fear out of his system, however, that mountain might give us some trouble."

He glanced forward and nodded, looking serious.

"Yes, that mountain can be great trouble."

He pulled ahead of her and back to the side of his uncle, Lady Eowyn not far behind. She turned her noble blonde head towards Lothiriel and sent her a still angry look. Lothiriel ducked her head. It seemed she was still in ill favor of at least one of Eomund's children.

She followed the line up the winding mountain road, her queen ahead of her. Arianna seemed unsure in her saddle, unbalanced and ill. She tilted more than was normal with keeping astride one's horse and Lothiriel felt her heart skip a beat. She looked to the side, over the rock cliff and swallowed. It was a very long way down.

Dear God she hoped no one fell.

Then disaster.

Arianna clutched her side, before going limp and tumbling towards the edge of the cliff, right off her horse and to the rocks below. Lothiriel reacted instantly.

"No!" she shouted, kicking Breiseius forward, her arm snapping out to grip tightly onto Arianna's hand. The force of her dead weight hanging simply by the strength of her arm was almost too much, and Lothiriel felt herself slide in her saddle towards the edge of the precipice that her queen dangled over.

"No, Ari, c'mon!" she shouted, pulling, attempting to right herself. It was no use, Arianna was too sick to aid in Lothiriel's attempt to get her back onto the safety of the path.

Lothiriel kicked Breiseius' sides and got him to back up as far as he could, but the path was too thin, Ari still dangled over the edge. She was slipping, having no grip herself, and Lothiriel grunted, gritting her teeth as she pulled, hard.

"Ari!" she shouted again as she pulled once more, slinging her queen's limp body up and over Breiseius' saddle, holding her there tightly, perspiration erupting on her brow, her heart beating erratically.

"Hang on, Ari," she whispered softly as the path opened up before her and she got her queen to the safety of the camp. Aragorn joined her quickly, watching carefully as Lothiriel rode into the camp, her hand on Ari's back reassuringly.

"Come with me, dear lady," King Théoden spoke as he and Eomer, and Lady Eowyn surrounded Lothiriel and Ari, shielding them from view of the men as they rode to the King's tent.

Lothiriel swung down from Breiseius and before she could do anymore Aragorn stepped up, taking Arianna into his arms and carrying her into the tent, Lothiriel following closely behind like a frightened mother.

"Ari, hold on," she spoke as she hovered over her friend, who looked like death once more. Her gown was removed and Lothiriel saw, for the first time, the extent of her injuries. Her entire torso was covered in a white cloth bandage, now completely bled through.

"Her wounds have reopened, she did too much."

Aragorn looked up at her, but did not speak.

"I should have made her stay behind," her voice sounded choked, like she had been holding back tears, but she ignored it, she ignored the tightening in the back of her throat and instead knelt at the side of her friend. She gently unwound the bandages, Aragorn turning his back like a gentleman. She got out her medicine bag and viewed the wounds. They were raised; ugly bruised and purple, even after all this time. Lothiriel ran her fingers along the deep cuts softly and sighed.

"Oh, Ari."

She quickly applied an herbal cream and poked her head out of the tent for a moment, surprised when she was met with Eowyn's worried face.

"Lady Eowyn!" her surprise was obvious but Eowyn merely smiled.

"What is it you need?"

It took Lothiriel a moment to answer.

"Clean bandages, if you can manage it."

Eowyn nodded and headed out into the camp. Lothiriel stepped back into the tent.

"Thank you Lord Aragorn, but I can handle it from here, until we need to move her again."

Aragorn looked a little unsure but nodded anyway, laying a gentle hand on her arm before taking his leave, his brow furrowed heavily. Eowyn appeared mere seconds after he'd left with bandages in hand, looking triumphant.

Lothiriel took them with a smile and hurriedly changed Arianna's bandages, feeling better when they remained white even as they touched her bruised and battered skin.

"Thank you, Lady Eowyn."

Eowyn smiled and took her hand for just a moment.

"You're very welcome; I hope that she gets well."

Lothiriel nodded, she did too. Because now it was up to her to do everything before a battle that her queen would do, and she had no idea how to do it. The Battle of Helm's Deep had been led by Ari, every battle that Lothiriel had ever fought in had been led by Ari, she wasn't even sure her army would fight without Ari.

"As do I," she heard herself say before leaving the tent. She was looking for Aragorn, but came across Gimli, Legolas, and Eomer instead.

Eomer was tending to Firefoot, Legolas and Gimli just looked slightly startled and almost annoyed.

"The horses are restless, and the men are quiet," Legolas observed.

"They grow nervous in the shadow of the mountain," Eomer supplied as he settled his saddle. Lothiriel listened with interest.

"That road there," Gimli pointed with his chin to what seemed hardly more than a crevice in the mountain side, "where does that lead?

"That is the road to the Dimholt," Legolas supplied, "The door under the mountain."

"None who venture there ever return," Eomer retorted, looking genuinely worried, "that mountain is evil."

Lothiriel couldn't help herself, she scoffed. All three heads snapped over to look at her and she shrugged, unimpressed.

"Evil? Sounds like a lot of hokum and superstition."

Eomer gave her a rare, wry smile.

"The souls that dwell in that mountain are cursed, dear lady, perhaps you should show them a bit more respect?"

"If they are cursed, then they must have done something to deserve it, therefore I doubt they deserve my respect, even if I were willing to give it," she snapped back.

Legolas and Gimli looked from one to the other; unsure if this was arguing or playful banter.

"Lady Lothiriel?" Aragorn appeared at her side, quickly diffusing the situation.

"Yes, my lord?" she turned, looking up at him with an irrepressible grin. There was something about Aragorn that she liked; a sense of honor and loyalty.

Eomer felt his chest constrict and suddenly he felt very much like punching Aragorn in his face. He didn't like the smile that Lothiriel was sending him.

"Does Lady Arianna need moved?"

Lothiriel looked over her shoulder and Sheatha caught her eye, nodding.

"Yes, the tent is up."

And so it was; a brilliant crimson with black trim, Sheatha standing before it, looking ill at ease, shifting from foot to foot as Aragorn carried in a still limp Ari.

Lothiriel made sure that she was settled and comfortable. She left orders that Renaewa and Querita were to stay behind and guard the tent, and to come and retrieve her if there was any change in their queen's condition.

Then she exited, clapping a hand onto Sheatha's shoulder.

"I want a full run down of our numbers, dividing them into specialties, and then I want those numbers reported back to me."

Sheatha nodded, bowing her head slightly and leaving her general to do as asked. Eomer came to take her place.

"You are to lead your troops now?" he asked her, even though he already knew the answer. She nodded.

"Yes, once more my queen is ill, and it is my duty to step forward."

It was his turn to nod.

"Duty before anything else?" he questioned and she knew that was a jab at her rejection of him, but she ignored it.

"Of course, I'm a soldier, it's in my blood."

She left him standing there, she had nowhere to go, but she needed to escape his side. His warmth was too much; his sarcastic attitude towards her was an emotional stab in the gut. It hurt.

She knew that she deserved it. She had probably hurt him just as badly if not worse, but still, it was a difficult pill to swallow. She wrapped her arms tightly around her and jumped nearly a foot in the air when a warm hand was pressed to her shoulder.

"Oh!" she turned, shocked to find King Théoden standing behind her, looking just as startled as she felt. Then he grinned.

"Forgive me, Lady Lothiriel, I did not mean to frighten you."

She smiled and shook her head.

"No, that's quite all right, I suppose I was just lost in my thoughts, my lord," she replied, giving him a small bow and his grin intensified as he took her hand.

"I wonder if you would take a walk with me?"

It was the second time that a royal had requested a walk with her in a day, but Lothiriel shrugged that off and nodded, taking the offered arm.

"Of course."

They walked in companionable silence for a few minutes until they reached the outer edge of the encampment and then Lothiriel felt herself start to get suspicious.

"My lord, I am beginning to feel that you wanted a little more than a simple walk."

Théoden had the good graces to look at least slightly abashed and nodded.

"I admit, I wished to speak to you about a matter that is…private."

Lothiriel loosened her grip on his arm.

"Oh?"

He sighed heavily and turned to look at her.

"You are a lovely lady, dear Lothiriel; I can see why it is my nephew is in love with you."

She stood there, completely shocked, her mouth agape.

"My lord…I…"

"I just wish you to know," he cut her off, "that if for some reason you rejected him because of the misguided notion that I, or my people would not accept you as the future queen, that you needn't put that into your mind anymore."

Her mouth fell open again.

She was silent and then somehow, regained her senses.

"My lord, are you telling me that you give me your blessing?"

He smiled and clasped both her hands with his.

"I am telling you, that any objection that you had of my nephew, because of station, does not matter anymore."

"But surely you want someone of noble birth to…"

He shook his head.

"I want Eomer to be happy. You make him happy, Lady Lothiriel."

She felt as though she had just finished spinning on her childhood swing and was currently watching the leaves of the trees above her; circle her head as though they had wings.

"My lord?" she questioned once more, unsure of what was expected of her.

"If you love him, dear lady, then tell him so. For these times can very quickly take away what we hold most dear."

And with that he left her to her thoughts, walking back towards camp. Lothiriel watched him go, her heart fluttering. She had just been given her blessing by the two people in the world who could have truly stood in the way of her and Eomer but now did not know what to do with those blessings. She loved Eomer, she truly did, and she was certain that he still loved her. But the things said between them, the rejection that she'd already put him through. Not to mention that Eowyn currently had her at the top of a very bad list.

Then there was the matter of her troops, and her queen. Not that they would object, per se, but would she be abandoning them if she stayed in Rohan with Eomer? Would that make her a deserter? Certainly, women left the Riders to get married and start families, but they never went to completely different lands; and they certainly never left to become queens.

But maybe that was her destiny; maybe she and Eomer really were meant to be. After all, she had been given blessings by the two people she'd been worried the most about. That had to be a sign, right?

Now she was more confused than ever. She had no idea that a heart could be torn in so many different directions. But then, she loved Eomer, she wanted to marry him, but the question was, did he still want to marry her?


	12. On the Eve of Battle Everything Changes

For what seemed like the thirtieth time in the past ten seconds, Lothiriel tossed on her cot. She had only wanted to get an hour or so of sleep, but it seemed that her mind was too overrun with questions and concerns. About her troops and about Eomer.

She rolled over, stood up and took a deep breath. There would be no sleep for her tonight and she had better just accept it. She exited her tent and nodded to Arianna's guards, whom had not moved since she had appointed them to their guardianship. They bowed their heads in respect back and Lothiriel kept walking, unsure of where it was exactly that she was going.

She ran a shaky hand through her hair and took a deep breath. Fear was gnawing at her insides with jagged teeth. She was unsure of her place in the world now, and there was a raw, angry feeling deep down inside that she would not be coming back from this war.

So lost in her thoughts, Lothiriel did not manage to see Merry as he appeared from Eowyn's tent, livery on, sword drawn.

"Oh!" he shouted as he bumped into her heavily and she reached out quickly to grab his shoulders and steady him.

"Forgive me, Merry, I was lost in thought." She smiled down at him and he sent her an unsure smile in return.

"My fault, milady, I hope I didn't hurt you." He gestured to his sword and she shook her head, her dark hair sweeping over her shoulders.

Eomer and Eothain looked over at the pair from their place next to the fire, and Eomer smiled softly to himself. Even when he knew he should close off his heart, he couldn't help but think that Lothiriel's hair was beautiful.

"Of course not, dear hobbit, I fear that blade isn't very sharp."

He blushed and ducked his head.

"No."

"Which is why he should go to the smithy," Eowyn spoke up from behind him and he nodded, ducking around Lothiriel to do as he was told.

"You should not encourage him," Eomer told her somewhat sharply. Eowyn sent him a dirty look.

"And you should not doubt him."

Lothiriel looked from one to the other, unsure as to what to do. She had never seen the pair of them exchange even remotely harsh words.

"I do not doubt his heart, only the reach of his arm."

Eomer and Eothain sniggered and Eowyn sent the back of their heads such a vehemently violent look that Lothiriel was shocked they didn't disintegrate into dust before her very eyes.

"At any rate, if Merry wishes to fight, then it is his business, not yours. He is an esquire of Rohan, now, and he is called to fight."

Eomer looked up at her in surprise and Lothiriel suddenly felt a bit frightened as she looked into his eyes. Her feelings were overwhelming for him, but she could not seem to stop her big fat mouth from spouting off whatever latest thought her mind had concocted without stopping to question on whether or not it was rude. Now he probably thought her heartless and mean.

"He knows nothing of war."

Eowyn joined in Merry's defense.

"Lothiriel is right; he has just as much right to fight as you do. He should be able to fight for the one's he loves."

Eomer stood now, worry and a slight anger on his handsome features.

"You know as little of war as that hobbit. When the fear takes him and the blood and the screams and the horror of battle takes hold. Do you think he would stand and fight? He would flee, and he would be right, to do so. War is the province of men, Eowyn." He rested a gentle hand on her shoulder before returning to his place beside the fire.

"You have all the leave to come and fight with us, dear lady Eowyn. Although I suppose that my lady Riders and I have no business in war, either?" Lothiriel practically spit out the words, an anger burning in her soul that she had not felt since her mother had been brought back to her; dead.

Eomer looked up at her, evaluating her.

"You and your Lady Riders are strong soldiers. My sister, however, is not."

She laughed.

"You did not answer my question, you merely sidestepped it."

He sighed heavily and looked tired. Eowyn looked merely sad this time and turned back into her tent.

Sheatha stepped up behind Lothiriel's shoulder and bowed to the superior officers before her before turning to face her.

"Lothiriel, we have 10 dozen archers, twelve generals, and a little over two thousand foot soldiers."

Lothiriel nodded her face pensive. Then she smiled. There was one thing about war in which she was incredibly gifted. Planning. She could create a plan of attack in her sleep; and sometimes she did. It was something about war that was controllable, and therefore, she liked it.

"Yes, divide the archers evenly between three flanks, and then I want the foot soldiers even as well. I shall take center, you shall take right, and Iredell shall take the left. Between the three of us we should decide a host of line, just in case."

Sheatha nodded, "And when shall that be, my lady?"

"Now, dear Sheatha, get Iredell, we shall decide who goes where and then tell the women. They shall need to prepare."

Sheatha bowed once more and took her leave to retrieve the other general.

"A host of line?" Eowyn asked as she exited her tent, having never heard such a term before. She was interested in the talk going on outside and even if she was angry with her brother for treating her as though she were nothing more than a beautiful decoration for vast halls, she would not let him intimidate her into staying away.

"Yes, dear lady, it is a term used in the Barazinbar. It means that if I should fall, there must be someone to take up my place. Someone to lead our troops into battle."

"Do you plan on falling, Lothiriel?" was the blonde's reply. Lothiriel grinned and tucked a stray strand of hair back behind her ear.

"Plan? No. But then, there is only so much planning you can do for a war. Forgive me for stepping in where I am not needed, if you'll excuse me," She bowed before the three Rohan people and left to find Sheatha and Iredell.

Eomer and Eothain watched her go. Eowyn walked away, looking thoughtful.

------------------------------------------

Lothiriel reached her two strongest generals and sat down beside them. They were talking quietly between themselves, eating apples.

"Lothiriel, have an apple," Iredell offered, holding out a beautiful red one. Lothiriel shook her head, waving the fruit away.

"I fear I do not have the stomach to eat right now. First we must decide upon the flanks. There were too many lost last time, there are gaping holes in the line, we need a brand new base of attack."

Long sheets of parchment were rolled out before them. Small pins used for soldiers, and together, it was decided who went where. Sheatha and Iredell did quibble over whom would take the most talented archers, before Lothiriel decided that they should be divided evenly, to give more strength to the flanks as a unit of entirety. Several minutes later, and the foot soldiers were rearranged. After one more argument that became a bit more heated than the one over the archers, it was decided what general went with which flank based on the soldiers in that flank.

"Now all that is left is to tell the Riders, and then put on our regiments for war," Lothiriel stated as the parchments were rolled and put away.

"Armor and paint?" asked Iredell, bringing out the oldest and most revered tradition; painting the face of each in regiment. It was slightly barbaric and mostly for scare, but it was shrouded in tradition and legend.

"Yes, paint as well thankfully we have the time for it, now. At Helm's Deep the battle came much too swiftly."

Iredell nodded, heading off to get her regiment ready as Sheatha departed as well. Lothiriel stood slowly, dusted herself off and crossed herself once for luck, once for hope, and a third time for strength.

She was going to need all three.

----------------------------------------------------

It was well into the night, and Lothiriel had just informed her last soldier of what was now to happen, of the new formations they had to be in by morning.

Her face was already painted, half covered fully in black paint, a silver dragon curling around her eye, its tail ending on her cheek, it's head resting just above her eyebrow; the other half of her face streaked softly with the same silver. She looked every bit a barbaric foot soldier of old and each member of the Rohhirim looked more than a little bit intrigued and frightened. She stalked through the camp with her head held high, her black hair tied back into a braid that fell delicately over her right shoulder.

"Iredell!"

Iredell stopped to turn and look at her leader, her own face painted half black the other streaked with blood red.

"Yes, Lothiriel?"

"Have you told the soldiers?"

"Yes, they know what to do."

Lothiriel nodded, setting her hand on Iredell's armored shoulder for just a moment.

"Good, we need to be ready by morning."

Sheatha appeared next, half her face black with red droplets sprouting from the corner of her eye, alternate red and silver decorating the other half.

"My troops are ready as well, my lady. Each painted and armored."

Lothiriel nodded.

"Good, now tell them all to get some sleep, it is late, and they shall need the rest."

Both Iredell and Sheatha nodded, before turning back into the camp. Lothiriel watched them go and then straightened her shoulders once more. She had one other thing to do before dawn.

She had to talk to Eomer.

She had to tell him that she loved him, before he was lost to her forever, because no matter what anyone else said, she loved him with all her heart; and she wanted to be happy, she wanted to know that they could be together, before the end. Because this may very well be the end for her, for him, for them both.

She deserved to be happy before she died and so did he.

"My lord Eomer?" she questioned as she appeared behind him. He was bent over the fire, talking to his men, who had all gone eerily quiet at the sight of her. Except for Eothain, she doubted he was ever quiet.

"Good evening, lady Lothiriel."

She nodded to him as Eomer turned to face her, shock becoming prominent across his brow as he saw her face paint.

"Lothiriel?" he questioned as though he didn't recognize her.

"Yes, it is me. I wish to have a word with you, if you don't mind."

He stood, glanced back at Eothain, who had the cheek to wink at him, then turned back to face her.

"Of course, my lady, please." He gestured her forward and she followed his lead, walking away from the encampment and prying ears; him falling into step next to her. They walked in a stiff and awkward silence until they were far enough away to talk without worry of someone overhearing them.

"What is it you wished to speak to me about, my lady?" he asked her, taking several steps away from her. Giving her the space that she did not need nor want; she looked up into his hazel-green eyes and managed a smile.

"I feel that there is much preparation going into this battle."

He nodded, unsure of what it was that she was getting at.

"And I know that there is one thing I must do still."

"And what is that, my lady?"

His formal language made her doubt her decision to tell him her feelings, if only for a moment.

"I need to tell you, I need you to understand how I…that is, what I…" she did not know what to say or how to say it. How could she explain away all the pain that she'd caused? How could she explain her newfound decision to run with her feelings, to make her duty to her heart and not to her head? Would he believe her? Would he still love her? Would he take her in his arms, all forgiven, or would he turn his back on her, ignore her; hurt her as badly as she had wounded him?

He held out a hand to stop her, pain deep set in his eyes but nowhere else.

"I do not need to hear another explanation of your repulsion of my affections, my lady, for it is as you said what could you possibly have to offer me?"

She knew it was meant as an insult; throwing her own words back at her. He started to walk away and was almost gone before she had the courage to finally speak.

"I would give you my heart!" she called out to him, stopping him dead in his tracks. He turned to look at her, a question creasing his brow as he started back towards her.

"What did you say?" he asked her, his voice nothing above a whisper, as though he were afraid it was all a dream. She managed a smile, her entire body trembling.

"I would give you my heart, Eomer, if you would ask it of me," she replied; tears flowing harsh paths down her cheeks, through the paint; a visible marker of her feelings.

Eomer surveyed her with a guarded look and she would not blame him if he decided not to trust her; decided that she was not worthy of his feelings.

"Please say something," she begged him tearfully, her heart far too heavy for him to suspend her in torment any longer. She was terrified that she'd pushed him away too hard, and had been successful in doing so.

He continued to look at her, his gaze unreadable, before closing the gap between them and claiming her lips with his own. One hand wrapped around the base of her neck, the other resting against her hip. The same mind-reeling sensations from their first kiss flooding back to them only intensified as Lothiriel responded to her warrior's ministrations. Her hands coming to rest upon his chest, her palms absorbing the sound of his pounding heartbeat.

The hand holding her neck moved to wrap around her waist as he hauled her up and further into his body, both of them glad that no armor separated them. The kiss deepened as her hands drifted up his chest to wrap around his shoulders, pulling him down and closer to her.

Only when air was needed most desperately did they separate, and even then, they did not go far, their foreheads resting gently together, his exhale her inhale. His hands were slightly shaky as he brought them up to cup her face, a brilliant smile splitting his own.

"I thought…" he started, but then he just continued to smile, unsure of what he had been thinking, his mind still replaying that kiss in total clarity.

She returned his smile and brought her hands to rest gently against his.

"I love you, Eomer, and I am so sorry…"

He kissed her again, but this one was gentle, soft; almost chaste.

"I love you as well, Lothiriel, and don't be sorry. It doesn't matter now."

She sighed heavily and leaned further into him. He wrapped his arms tightly around her waist and rested his cheek on the top of her head. She shivered at his touch and snuggled into his chest, her ear coming to rest just over his heartbeat.

His hand smoothed over her hair in a calming manner and after a moment or two, she pulled back a bit, but his arms tightened around her waist, refusing to let her back away too far.

She looked up into his face and a laugh escaped her lips. She reached out and wiped a bit of silver paint from his lips. He smiled down at her.

"I meant to ask what the paint is all about, what does it mean?" he asked her.

"It is an ancient tradition in the Barazinbar. It is said that the ancient Gods battled with faces painted, and that if you are to die in battle, then if your face is painted as the Gods' once were when you come to face them, that they will allow you into the land of souls because they recognize that you are a soldier."

He looked bemused and she shrugged.

"It sounds silly, I know, but I shan't like to take the chance."

Eomer's face darkened and Lothiriel felt as though ice water had been dumped upon her head.

"What is it? What's wrong?" she asked him and he leaned close, resting his forehead against hers once more.

"I do not wish you to speak of such dark tidings; you shall come back to me."

She tightened her grip on him.

"Of course I shall, and as long as I am coming back to you, I must ask you something."

He nodded, "We shall be married as soon as this war has ended."

She laughed and he looked a bit unsure. She quickly spoke up to soothe his fear.

"Of course I shall marry you, but that wasn't my question."

He nodded, "Oh, what was it, then?"

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer.

"Is this really happening?"

He kissed her again.

"Yes, it is."

She laughed as he swept her up into his arms and spun her around. She giggled the entire time, her hands resting on his broad shoulders as he gently set her back down.

"Lord Aragorn!"

A call from one of the men interrupted their happy moment and they turned back towards the camp before looking up at one another questioningly. Eomer waved her forward and together, still holding hands, they went back to the men just in time to see Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas leaving into the Dimholt; the door under the mountain.

"Why does he leave on the eve of battle?" one of the men questioned and Gamling stepped into a circle of the men that Lothiriel and Eomer had just become a part of.

"He leaves because there is no hope."

King Théoden broke the ranks of his men, pushing past them to reach the middle of the circle.

"He leaves because he must."

"Too few have come. We cannot defeat the armies of Mordor," Gamling retorted, sounding slightly frightened.

"No, we cannot," Théoden agreed, "but we will meet them in battle none the less."

There was a new strength to Théoden King and it sent the softest of smiles to Lothiriel's lips. Oh yes, if he were not a king and she not a soldier, they would have been great friends.

"Now get some rest, all of you, there is a long ride in the morning." And with that he took his leave. The men all looked at one another in fear, sadness, and exhaustion, but slowly, one by one, they scattered back to tents and cots, for sleep that was most desperately needed.

Lothiriel and Eomer stood still, holding hands, until Lothiriel yawned widely. Eomer sent her a bemused smile before kissing her temple sweetly.

"Get some rest, my dear, it is late, and we do have a long ride in the morning."

Lothiriel sighed and leaned into his chest for just a moment before pulling away and giving him a soft kiss to the lips.

"I love you, Eomer."

"I love you, Lothiriel."

She kissed him once more before squeezing his hand tightly and taking her leave. Eomer watched her go, a brilliant smile splitting his lips. Eowyn stepped up next to him, sadness and laughter in her eyes.

"Does this mean, dear brother, that there shall be a queen of Rohan when you take the throne?"

He looked down at her, a dark smile on his face.

"If there is still a Rohan to rule."

He left to go to bed; Eowyn stood still, her arms crossed around herself, fear gnawing at her heart and a decision made in her mind.

--------------------------------------------------

The sun had just made it over the horizon when Lothiriel awoke. She put on her armor, her sword, and smoothed the paths her tears had made with more paint. She exited her tent and watched as the Lady Riders, the largest group out of those awake, were already tearing down the camp, readying for war.

Eomer was just a few feet away, watching as well, and she went over to stand beside him, her hand sneaking into his. He smiled, tightened his grip and tugged her a little closer.

"Your soldiers are most proficient."

She laughed.

"Yes, they are very well trained. We ride for war today."

He nodded.

"That we do."

"I need you to promise me something," she whispered and he looked down at her.

"Anything."

"Promise me, that no matter what happens, you will find a way to come back to me."

He pulled her into a tight hug, not caring who saw them in such an intimate position.

"I promise." He kissed the top of her head and slowly released her. She nodded, her hands playing nervously with her braid.

"Good."

"Lady Lothiriel! We need your help!" Sheatha called to her and Lothiriel looked over her shoulder at the next in command.

"Of course, Sheatha, I'm coming!" she turned back to Eomer, "I must go now."

He nodded, kissing her properly.

"I will see you when this is all over."

She nodded, smiled, and turned, headed back to Sheatha to offer the aid that was needed.

"What is wrong, Sheatha?"

"What shall we do with Queen Arianna? She is still so very ill."

Lothiriel felt her heart constrict and guilt explode through her. She had forgotten about Ari.

"I want Yossule and Wertanium to stay with her. In a few days time they shall follow us to Gondor, they have the best Healing Halls in Middle-Earth."

Sheatha nodded, leaving to relay the message.

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Not more than two hours later, the encampments were packed up and together, the Rohhirim and the painted Lady Riders of the Barazinbar rode together towards battle once more, a general and the Third Marshal of the Riddermark both praying that they made it out alive and back to the ones that they loved.

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	13. Battling for Middle Earth

Lothiriel gasped heavily under her helmet as she continued to push Breiseius on. They had been riding for nearly eight hours straight, no breaks at all. They had to get as close to Gondor as possible, as fast as possible. However, breaking their mounts would do no good at all.

Lothiriel threw her arm up and made a few subtle motions. The Lady Riders slowed to a walk and then stopped completely. It took a moment or two for the Riders of Rohan to see that their companions had ceased movement; but when they did they turned in a beautiful fluid motion.

Théoden and Eomer appeared before Lothiriel, the both of them looking appropriately stern upon their war horses and beneath their helmets.

"Lady Lothiriel, what is wrong? Why do you stop?" Théoden questioned as Eomer sat by his side, silent, his hazel eyes worried.

"My lords I appreciate our need to be swift, but if it means breaking our mounts and our soldiers, then there is no need for the haste you have put upon us."

Théoden looked very much like he wanted to grin, but he held back. Eomer had no such luck, and there was an amused and sweet smile upon his handsome countenance.

"You are right, my lady," he turned to his troops, "Riders! Rest!"

The men did as they were told, fanning out and dismounting, instantly breaking up and looking much more like groups of friends, than soldiers.

Théoden and Eomer dismounted right where they were as Lothiriel turned to face her own troops.

"Barazinbar, fan out! Scouts!"

Three separate women stayed atop their horses and rode forward to meet their general as the remainder of the Lady Riders dismounted.

"Ride forward, connect with the rest of the scouts and report back."

They each nodded and rode out, men of Rohan with them as Eomer sent his own scouts to meet with the men and women that he and Lothiriel had sent forth the day before.

Eomer caught her eye and they shared a happy grin, taking steps closer to one another and softly linking hands, neither one worried that the entirety of the camp would see them. At the very least it would give the soldiers something else to speak of besides the upcoming battle. And the two generals knew that they needed it. They needed to be able to distract themselves from the fear that had been palpable ever since they had realized what lay before them.

Théoden smiled over at the subtly affectionate couple, and walked forward, embracing them both.

Eomer and Lothiriel stiffened but when Théoden pulled away, with tears in his eyes, they both settled for looking slightly confused.

"My lord?" Lothiriel asked him in concern. He smiled gently at her, taking her free hand and kissing the knuckles gently.

"You shall make a beautiful queen of Rohan."

She blushed and her smile grew as Eomer pulled her completely into his embrace, kissing the crown of her hair. Théoden allowed himself a chuckle of happiness and the three missed the pair of hazel eyes that watched them from afar, a blonde man named Dernhelm, whose riding companion was Merry the Hobbit. Although, little did anyone else know that there was a lady in their midst who was not a Lady Rider.

* * *

It had hardly been a quarter of an hour when the scouts returned, reporting what they had seen to their superiors.

"Minis Tirith is surrounded, my lady, the lower level is in flames, and everywhere there are legions of the enemies advancing."

Lothiriel nodded her head as Rohan's scouts reported the same to their King and Eomer.

"Time is against us." Théoden appeared at her side, his voice breathless and sounding scared. Eomer stood not too far from him, looking nervous as well.

"Make ready!" Théoden called out to his men as Lothiriel turned to her troops.

"Riders, move out!" she called to them and they reacted instantly, swinging up onto their stallions and forming lines once more.

"Lothiriel," Eomer stepped up behind her, his hand on her shoulder and his lips near her ear, "I need to you to come out of this alive."

She took a deep breath to avoid turning into his embrace and never leaving and nodded, swinging up onto Breiseius, looking down at her beloved and betrothed.

"Then I shall."

He smiled softly at her and gripped her hand for a moment, kissing it gently before leaving her side to join his people.

* * *

Lothiriel took the deepest breath she could possibly take, because it very well could be her last. She knew that she had promised Eomer that she would come back to him, but she also knew that it was a hallow promise; it wasn't one that she could necessarily keep. It was one that she wanted to keep, but as hopeful as she was, she knew better than to be clouded by that happiness of her possible future.

They had ridden through the night, no more stopping; Gondor was in too dire of need for them to rest.

Now they were on the edge of the fields surrounding Minis Tirith and the sight before her stole any available air from her lungs. The White City was surrounded by orc, its lower levels on fire, and even though her scouts had told her so, it was very jarring to the system to actually see it with her own eyes. It looked like the world was ending. Fear welled up from deep inside and choked her for a moment. She sat, frozen, atop Breiseius in the lead of her troops who formed ranks behind her, all already knowing what to do.

"Breath, just breath." She told herself softly as Breiseius reared, already skittish. She knew that he'd had enough of war, but she didn't trust any other horse to carry her into battle. She reined him back in, turning him around until he faced the fight again.

"Lady Riders!" she turned to face her troops just as Théoden turned to face his, "this war has fallen upon our shoulders, as the fight of the Valar did on our ancestors! Remember their fight! Remember their heart, their strength! For these run through your veins! Do not fear death, but embrace it! And bring it forth to our enemies!"

The Lady Riders responded with an outcry in their native tongue. Then they started to chant, their swords raised their eyes fiery and their countenances fierce. Lothiriel turned back to lead her troops, as Iredell and Sheatha came forward to ride ahead of their ranks, to lead their people into battle.

She reminded herself to breath just once more before raising her own sword and holding it out towards the ranks of orc before her, and, the Lady Riders of the Barazinbar, in unison with the Rohhirim started forward towards what could be the last day for them all.

Slowly, the horses were urged into a gallop down the hill, and Lothiriel kept her sword raised, ready now to fight, to fight for her people, for her Queen, for herself, for the future that she could have with Eomer.

The first clash of the armies fell with a deafening roar that temporarily rendered Lothiriel unable to hear what was happening around her. Shield to sword, bow to arrow, the cries of death from both sides were all lost to her as she led her troops on. Her sword held high, gleaming in the sun, barbaric calls for blood and death echoing from her tongue.

She swung down, decapitating the nearest enemy with flawless procession. Taking not even the time to watch its head tumble to the ground, she urged Breiseius on. Blood spattered everywhere, mud and dust both leaping to the air. Each soldier already looking as though they'd battled hours instead of mere minutes.

Two more swings of her sword and two more heads she did not pause to watch fall. Then Breiseius stumbled and fell, tossing her through the air; over his head. Her helmet went in one direction, her body another, and she became separated once more from her sword. She blinked up at the sun, attempting to catch her breath. Her hands felt numb and for a moment terror ripped through her as her mind wandered if she'd hurt herself badly.

Then, slowly, and to her immense relief, the feeling in her extremities returned and she rolled, crawling forward, looking for her sword. She scrambled, her eyes darting here and there, looking for that familiar gleam. She found it and scooped it up, standing and turning just in time to defend herself and kill another orc. She whistled for Breiseius, but he never came. Her mind too focused on defending herself to realize that he would never come again.

She was swept further and further into the onslaught of her enemies, away from the safety of her troops, and was tempted to scream, her heart pounding an unfamiliar rhythm in her chest. Her sword swung as her eyes searched in vain for a familiar face. Again and again she swung, her arms aching and her body covered with blood, unsure if any of it was her own.

She managed to rejoin her ranks, but only barely and now as nothing more than a foot soldier. Her regiment closed in behind her, around her, absorbing her back into the Lady Riders; all of them fighting as one.

A soldier of the Rohhirim flashed beside her and her heart leapt to her throat. But it wasn't Eomer and she felt her hopes crash around her.

She had not seen him.

Even as the battle raged around her; her mind centered on Eomer.

She may be a widow even before she was married.

Another orc fell by her hand.

When she had held his hand four days ago, it may have been the last time she'd ever touch him.

Another enemy fell.

She may have to settle for sharing just three kisses and nothing more intimate.

One more gone.

She'd be alone in the Barazinbar.

A stray bit of something she couldn't identify flew before her and cut her temple; knocking her back. For the second time she was blinking up at the bright, and rather pretty blue sky and warm yellow sun.

They were mocking her.

She groaned, rolled, and picked up her head to see the garrison of the enemy and their oliphant steeds before her. She gaped openly as blood clouded her vision.

How could they do this?

Even with the combined forces of Rohan, Gondor, and the Barazinbar?

They were all going to die.

* * *

Okay! Latest installment, and a bit of a cliffy, leaving it on the edge of the battle like that, but if I put the whole chapter up it would be like epically way too long, so I cut it here, and I know that I have waited a really long time to update this, but to tell you the truth I watched the Fellowship of the Ring the other day and got this thought, and this thought carried me away for awhile. So, I was busy writing out this thought and not focusing on this story. So sorry about that, hopefully you're all still with me!


	14. Battling for Middle Earth II

Lothiriel managed to get to her feet and take several steps backwards, her fear threatening to swallow her whole. Then, the Rohhirim reformed their line, spears and swords at the ready, staring down their enemy with determined eyes. Their powerful presence gave Lothiriel hope and she tightened her grip on her sword. If they could continue the fight, then so could she, and with another barbaric cry she ran forward to take on their enemy.

She brought down her sword so many more times that she could hardly count them. Her arms and lungs burned with the force of which she was using them, her body poured sweat and her heart beat erratically.

Men and women alike swarmed around her, some atop their steeds, and some on their feet just as she was. The gleam of swords and the sound of spears hitting flesh resounded around her and she resisted the urge to duck. She slashed out at the large legs surrounding her and felt a grim sense of satisfaction as the great beast roared.

"Aim for their heads!"

She turned without thinking as a familiar voice rang clear behind her. Her blue eyes centered on Eomer, atop Firefoot, his bow in his hands as he shot at the Mumakil army. She felt her heart nearly burst with happiness as she witnessed Eomer's well being firsthand. She knew that she could go on now, he was all right and she had a stronger reason to fight.

She turned back to face the enemy and let out a rather undignified shriek as she narrowly avoided being crushed by the giant foot of a Mumakil warrior. She rolled across the field once more, beginning to get rather tired of rolling through dirt and grass all the time.

For the final time she jumped back to her feet and set her sword to the ready, only to find that most of the enemy was now gone and dead at her feet. Aragorn passed her, Gimli and Legolas shouting to one another directly after him and surrounding them were men that were green.

Lothiriel did a double take at the men, and suddenly realized that they were the ghosts from the Dimholt. She gasped as a feeling of well being flooded her and Aragorn stood before the men, the enemy now gone and sunlight flooding back onto the plain.

The ghosts dissipated before her eyes and she turned to look back at the decimated field behind her. The dead littered the ground, Barazinbar Lady Riders, the Rohhirim and soldiers of Gondor folded in together to lay as one in death.

Men and her own Lady Riders were stalking through the field, looking for the wounded in among the dead. She sighed heavily and dropped her sword, no longer having the heart to raise it again; she brought her fingers to her lips instead and whistled. She waited a moment or two and looked around before realizing that Breiseius was gone; she'd lost him. Tears pricked at the backs of her eyes and she took a shaky breath. Breiseius had long been a loyal friend and her heart hurt now that he was gone.

"Lothiriel!"

She turned to find Eomer's hazel eyes sparkling as he ran towards her. She smiled for what felt like the first time in years, although it couldn't have been more than a few hours, and ran towards him, feeling complete again as his arms wrapped tightly around her and held her close. She inhaled the scent that clung to him greedily, trembling against his chest even as the simple presence of him calmed her.

He pushed her away slightly, holding her at an arm's length to get a look at her and when he saw her wounds his hazel eyes narrowed.

"Are you all right?" he asked, as if he would do terrible things to someone if she wasn't. She smiled; far too exhausted to attempt to understand why his fierce protectiveness of her was such a comforting emotion for her.

"I'm fine," she managed, hoping her voice wasn't as shaky as she felt it was. He still looked angered and she reached a hand out to cup his face.

"I'm fine," she repeated, staring deeply into his eyes. He seemed to calm and returned her gentle smile, tugging her back into his arms again. She set her cheek against his chest and sighed, her exhaustion and fear catching up to her as she took the moment to relax.

"I'm so relieved you're all right," he murmured against her hair as he buried his fingers in the now loosened braid, curling them in her dark tresses at the base of her neck. She felt a harsh shiver wrack her spine at the intimate touch and tightened her grip on his waist.

"I love you Eomer," she whispered before stepping back from him and he looked down at her in slight awe, as though he could hardly believe that she was there, in his arms, before him. She smiled off handedly at him and he nodded, seeming to understand that their duty was now to their people, to their country, they could be a couple in love later, but for now they had to be soldiers.

One last squeeze of his hand and she was off to search through the many dead.

She had only been searching for wounded for a few minutes when a heart wrenching, soul shattering scream echoed. She turned to find the source only to discover Eomer running, his weapons being flung to the side, his eyes wide in disbelief and grief as he hit his knees in the dirt and clenched a body to his chest. For a moment she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her, but she knew that she recognized the cascading golden hair. Eomer was clutching his sister in his arms, crying and screaming out his grief and anguish.

Lothiriel turned on her heel and grabbed the nearest well person she could latch onto. It happened to be Eothain.

"Eothain, I need your help."

* * *

Lothiriel stood in the Halls of Healing, her heart trembling. Eomer sat beside his sister's bed, distraught, tears flowing freely down his face. Eowyn lay still on the cot, looking paler than she normally did; her arm battered and bruised almost beyond recognition, and a shallow breath barely escaping her chest.

Lothiriel stepped up behind her betrothed and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, feeling almost out of place in the family moment of grief. Eowyn was all he had left, she recognized that, and he was feeling the potential loss of her greatly.

Eomer turned to look up at his future bride, her hand on his shoulder, her blue gaze centered directly on his mortally injured sister, tears welling in her eyes to match the ones already trailing his face. Aragorn had retreated to find something he called kingsfoil, and had yet to return with it. His heart shattered as he looked from his beloved to his sister then back again.

She did not look at him.

She was afraid of what she might see.

He reached out, gripping her still armor clad waist and pulling her down to be with him. She landed none too gracefully on his lap, his arms tight around her, his face buried in her shoulder. She stiffened for just a moment, having never been in such an intimate position with any man who wasn't her father before. For all her soldier's bravado, she was still just a maiden and blushed furiously at the thoughts others would have upon seeing her in such a compromising position with a man who wasn't her husband.

His tears shook his great shoulders and she gently placed her arms around him, soothing him with soft shushing sounds that had always seemed to work for her when she'd been a child. Her fingers ran through his hair, the pressure against his scalp aiding in her attempt to soothe him. He brought his face up to look at her for a moment and she smiled hopefully at him. He returned a ghost of a smile and pulled her tighter into him, shifting her further into his embrace.

If he hadn't been so distraught and she so worried, it might have been awkward. But as it was, all they could think of now was Eowyn and the dwindling line of Rohirric royalty.

Aragorn returned a steaming bowl of a liquid that neither soldier knew how to identify in his hands. He favored them a glance but did not question their placement. He simply kneeled next to Eowyn and dipped his fingers in the bowl. Very gently he traced her brow, her lips, and her neck with the steaming liquid, and then he took her uninjured hand and called to her softly.

"Eowyn, Eowyn."

She seemed to breath deeper and Eomer's arms tightened, the muscles contracting in anticipation. The slightest tinge of pink returned to the White Lady's cheeks.

"How?" Lothiriel found herself speaking the thought out loud. All of those around her ignored her breathy question.

Aragorn looked up and smiled at the pair, wonder on both their faces, mingled with hope. Lothiriel sitting on Eomer's lap, his arms tight around her waist, one of her hands still buried deep in his hair, her free arm draping across his as if to cement their position.

He was happy for them.

His friends were in love.

He disregarded the sad, wistful longing he got for Arwen and continued to smile at them.

"Take her hand, Eomer, and call to her, for her heart is tied heavily to yours."

Eomer looked unsure, but Lothiriel stood, gripping his arms and having him stand as well. He took his strength from her and crossed to the other side of Eowyn's bed, gently taking her hand.

"Eowyn." He called to her, his forehead resting gently against hers. Her breathing deepened once more and she seemed as if just asleep now. The color started to return to her skin as Eomer repeated her name.

"Why does she not wake?" Lothiriel questioned after a moment, Aragorn stood behind her. He placed a gentle and soothing hand on her shoulder.

"She will, in time."

Eomer continued to call to his sister and Lothiriel watched them, her soul aching.

Aragorn took his leave of them, off to heal others and to aid in bringing in the dead. Théoden among them, already up in the great turret, revered as a hero. The ache of grief echoing in all the hearts who had known the great king; and Lothiriel knew that marriage, as much as she and Eomer wanted to be, would have to be postponed. There was much to do.

She would have to return to the Barazinbar, to aid in the reconstruction there, for although they were far from the Black Gate, she had a thundering certainty that war had marched on their lands even without the army there to fight.

She could only hope that Duerma had enough sense to take the people to safety.

"Lothiriel?" Sheatha appeared next to her and Lothiriel glanced over at her friend. Sheatha's arm was bandaged heavily, as was her head, and together they stood and stared down at brother and sister.

"Yes dear Sheatha?"

"Arianna is in the Halls, she is being tended to carefully by the healers but there are others…"

Lothiriel nodded faintly, knowing that the Gondorians would wish to take care of their own first. She had not expected any less from them.

"If she is meant to come back to us, then she shall, Sheatha, in the meantime I want a list of all of our soldiers who are now gone."

Sheatha looked uncertain.

"Not all have been brought from the battlefield."

Lothiriel nodded again, surer this time.

"Yes I know, list them as they come."

Sheatha bowed slightly, taking her leave of her commanding officer and going to do as she was told.

"Eomer?" Lothiriel questioned gently as she kneeled beside him, his forehead still pressed to his sister's.

"Yes?" he asked her faintly, his grip on Eowyn's hand tight, as though she may disappear if he let go.

"I would not have let her."

He looked over at her questioningly, curious as to what she meant.

"What do you mean, my love?"

Lothiriel felt her tears return and a lump form in her throat, making her next words thick.

"I told Eowyn that night that she had leave to battle with the Lady Riders, but I…I know she was…is no soldier, and I wouldn't have let her go. I need you to know that I wouldn't have let her fight."

He brushed a chaste kiss to her lips.

"I know, dear Lothi, I know."

She nodded, smiling at his implicit trust in her, and the newest nickname he had afforded her.

"I love her as a sister, and I would have stopped her, had I known."

He enveloped her in a tight, crushing, one armed hug and she gladly buried her face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the calming scent of him.

"I love you, Lothiriel of the Barazinbar." He murmured against her hair and she snuggled further into him, content to stay exactly as she was.

"I know."

They sat in one another's embrace for minutes that seemed to shrink into seconds when Lothiriel pulled away.

"I have to bring in more from the field, but I shall return soon."

She bent down and kissed his forehead gently, leaving him without as much as a glance back. She knew if she looked back then she'd be at his side the rest of the night, her heart unable to leave him in his time of grief and happiness, but she had things to do and soldiers to take care of. Looking back wasn't an option.


End file.
